The Hard Road
by xavionite
Summary: 1983. Sometimes we regret the road not taken. Sometimes the road we take has unexpected curves. Sometimes the curves turn into cliffs. Just when the dangerous part of his career should be over, Roy faces the biggest challenge of his life. And that's what friends are for… Big time hanky alert for this one!
1. Chapter 1

**Foreword**

 **The life of a firefighter is fraught with danger. Our first responders recognize and accept this risk, willingly walking into dangerous situations to save lives. This story explores the very real potential for permanent injury that exists in such a high-risk job. Please be aware that if you struggle with the idea of permanent injury to a beloved main character, this might not be the best story for you.**

 **This story, which takes place in 1983 – 1984, continues the cycle I started in _The Gift_ (set 1976) and continued in _Christmas Eve Gift_ (also 1976) _,_ _Legends and Light_ (1979), and _Stirring the Ashes of Memory_ (1982). The stories can be read independently, but for context, it is useful to read them in chronological order.**

 **Some readers may recognize Andrew Carter and Peter Newkirk from the show Hogan's Heroes. My version of Roy DeSoto appears in katbybee's HH fanfic, _Three Ring Circus,_ which details her version of what could have happened to several of the HH boys years after Stalag 13, during the Vietnam War; in their time together, Roy developed a close friendship with these characters that would certainly bring them to his side in a crisis, and so it makes sense to bring them in here. I make no claims to ownership of the original HH characters (that belongs to Albert Ruddy and the Estate of Bernard Fein), nor to katbybee's storylines and her original character Taffy (he's one of my favorites, though, and I sure wouldn't mind keeping him, but I couldn't write him half as well as kat can!). Taffy also makes an appearance in _Christmas Eve's Gift._ Be on the lookout for more stories involving Roy and his friends from Hogan's Heroes!**

 **I likewise make no claim of ownership to the characters of the original Emergency show, created by Harold Jack Bloom and R. A. Cinader, but as long as they keep talking in my head, I'm going to keep taking dictation!**

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 **Author's Note: Thank you to my beta readers for their feedback and constant encouragement. I have never met you ladies in person, but I love and pray for you both daily! Your support means the world to me! Special kudos goes to katbybee for coming up with my title and writing the description for me when I was stuck! And to all those who follow my work and leave reviews, thank you as well!**

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 **Chapter 1**

Friday, September 9, 1983, started like any other day. Captain Roy DeSoto stepped into Station 51 bright and early that morning, never imagining that by the end of the day his life would hang in the balance. 51 was no longer his station, but he had traded shifts with Mike Stoker. The 9th was the birthday of the Stoker twins, and Mike had asked Roy to trade shifts so he could be home to celebrate with them. With Marco Lopez subbing for Mike's engineer, it almost felt like old times. Of course, when Mike's junior paramedic arrived, Roy couldn't help feeling old. Matthew Carter hadn't even been born when Roy was a POW in 'Nam with his grandfather, Andrew Carter.

All told, it was a quiet day… just a couple of trash fires. The paramedics were called out more than the engine, but their calls were minor and they enjoyed an uninterrupted lunch. Marco managed a nap in the afternoon. By the time the klaxon sounded for an apartment fire, around 19:00, the men were getting antsy for a little action. Roy knew it was a big one — the klaxon practically vibrated off the wall as it sounded the tones to call four different stations to the scene.

As always, Roy stepped out to the engine bay and acknowledged the call, passed the address slip to the paramedics, then climbed into the engine and settled himself in the captain's seat. Lopez slipped into his seat behind the wheel and they were off.

By the time they reached the scene of the fire, Station 36 was already there. Battalion Chief Stanley had taken charge, with 36's captain directing operations. Roy told his men to don their SCBA while he headed over to Stanley to receive instructions.

"DeSoto," Stanley said, all business from the get-go. "We need your whole team inside on this one, searching for victims. First and fourth floors are cleared… 10's is sweeping the second now. You'll take the third. Lead your men around to the northwest entrance and head up. Sweep those rooms as quick as you can and report back here. And Roy… be careful."

Roy grinned. As much as he loved his work as a captain, he missed the thrill of active involvement in a rescue, rather than simply directing it from the sidelines. He saluted. "Yes Sir, Chief!"

He pulled on his own SCBA and jogged back to the engine. "Northwest entrance, men. Follow me! We're sweeping the third floor. Move fast but be thorough. Lopez, you're with us on this one."

With that, he headed toward the building. In the weeks that followed, after the day had fled from his memory and he tried to piece it together with the accounts that his friends gave him, he wondered whether he sensed what was to come… whether he had some notion that this might be his last rescue, that his life was about to change irrevocably.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny rinsed and dried the last of the dinner dishes and stacked them in the cabinet, then trudged out to the living room to find Nita glowering on the sofa, sitting straight as a poker, her eyes blazing, her arms crossed over her chest. His heart quickened at the sight. _Damn, but she's beautiful when she's angry._

She was looking down and didn't notice him standing in the door frame gazing at her; he took advantage of the moment to strategize before approaching. Not that he thought it would do much good… strategies were most effective when you could count on the person you were using them on to be predictable. Lately, Nita's moods had been anything but. Johnny knew why, and he didn't begrudge her. But it sure made it harder to figure out what he should do when the thing that made her happy one day made her spit fire the next.

Finally, he nodded to himself and, resolved to do the one thing he knew (well, hoped) would work, he walked on into the room, angling to stay out of his wife's line of sight. Just before he reached the sofa, the floorboards creaked under his feet, giving him away. Nita glared at him but didn't duck away when he slid his lanky frame into the space next to her and began gently massaging her neck.

"I'm sorry," he said, punctuating the words with a kiss to her left earlobe. She didn't answer but turned so he could more easily get to her back. He felt a knotted muscle just under her left shoulder blade and focused his attention on it.

He could feel the tension flowing out of her as he continued the massage. After a few minutes, she leaned against him, the fire quenched for now. He stroked her raven-black hair with one hand while the other moved to her abdomen. She was just beginning to show, and Johnny couldn't help imagining what the baby would look like, but he didn't say anything. He figured he would keep quiet and let her talk when she was ready.

When she did, her voice was just above a whisper. "I am not a china doll. I can wash the dishes. I can clean the house. I have been doing it since I was a child."

"I know." Johnny brushed her hair aside so that he could kiss her neck. His thoughts flashed back to the advice her Uncle Willis had given him the day after the wedding, as they sat around the kitchen table just the next room over.

"Fighting is a part of the game of marriage, Son… but so is making up…" Willis had said. And then he'd waggled an eyebrow and grinned. "In fact, it can be the best part of all, if you do it right!" At that, Meli, his wife of 40 years, had blushed and swatted him with a dishtowel. A moment later, the two were kissing, oblivious to their audience.

Johnny caught in a deep breath. Yeah, that advice was right on the money, and he intended to draw out this session of making up as long as he could. "You just looked tired… I thought I'd give you a break. Next time I'll ask first, instead of telling you. Or we can do the work together. Deal?"

She puffed out a breath of air, then looked up at him. Her eyes were softer now, regretful. "Deal. And… forgive me? I don't know why I get so mad… I mean, I should be grateful my husband is so helpful!" Her eyes brimmed with tears as her emotions threatened to get the better of her again.

Johnny bent to kiss her forehead again and patted on her tummy. "I believe our little souvenir from France has something to do with that, Madame. From what Roy tells me, fluctuating emotions are totally normal. Don't worry… there is nothing to forgive." He knew better than to quote Roy verbatim, but the memory of his friend sneaking into the station one morning when Jo was expecting DJ, looking like a scared dog with its tail between its legs, made it hard for him to suppress a smile.

Roy had said, "I'm tellin' ya, Junior… I'm not sure I can survive another six months on this roller coaster!" At moments like this, Johnny had hopes of making it, but he was pretty sure he had looked just like that scared dog not twenty minutes ago when Nita was raging at him. He kissed her again, then gently thumbed away a tear as it slipped down her cheek.

Nita captured his hand in hers and kissed it as she rested her head in his lap and closed her eyes. A moment later, she was sound asleep. Johnny smiled down at her. He planted one more kiss on her forehead and then settled back in his spot and closed his own eyes. He'd spent a long day making repairs in the stable, and he was as tired as his wife. Might as well have a snooze here on the sofa before heading up to bed and enjoying… well… more making up.

Johnny wasn't sure how long he had been asleep before the phone jolted him out awake. Nita slept through it, but his mind and body were well trained to awaken at a moment's notice. Taking care not to jostle his contented wife, Johnny stretched an arm to pick up the handset of the phone on the end table. "Hello?"

A moment later, pale and shaken, he hung up the receiver. "Nita, honey…" He shook her gently to wake her. "We need to hurry. Roy was caught in a building collapse about an hour ago. They haven't got him out yet… they're not even really sure where he is. I'm taking you to sit with Jo and the kids, and then I'm going to go help search."

In the months since their wedding, Nita had taken on the role of a fire captain's wife with grace. When his lineman Sam Goldstein had been badly burned a month ago, Nita had sat with his wife in the hospital waiting room, offering comfort and support; that evening, she was on the phone coordinating meals with the other wives so that Ruth wouldn't have to worry about feeding her family while Sam was in the hospital. The Gages had already hosted the men and their families at the ranch several times, and Nita had formed fast friendships with JoAnne DeSoto and Emily Stanley. Johnny knew without asking that she would want to be there for Jo now.

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A scant 45 minutes later, with a prayer of thanks that he'd managed to avoid a speeding ticket, Johnny parked his Jeep Honcho behind 51's engine. He pulled his spare turnouts, gloves, and boots from under the back seat and suited up, then, with a nod to Vince at the perimeter, he pushed past the gathering crowd and hurried towards Chief Stanley, who didn't look at all surprised to see him. Beyond Chief, smoke rose from a pile of rubble. If Roy was in that… Johnny swallowed the lump in his throat and tried not to let his hope fade. _God… help him._ "What's the story, Chief?" He would waste no time with small talk. "Have you been able to raise him on the handie-talkie?"

Stanley lifted a hand in greeting. "Roy was inside on a sweep of the third floor when we sounded the all-clear. He handed a kid off to Lopez and went back… Lopez thinks he heard someone calling for help and… well… you know Roy. Next thing we know, he's at the window handing not one, but two kids to Carter and Bowman. But before he could climb out, the floor gave way and he fell.

"Bowman saw it happen… tried to grab him… but he couldn't move fast enough. He heard the building groan and had to scramble to get that last kid down before the whole thing went. That was almost two hours ago… we haven't been able to get Roy on the HT, and the best we can figure is, he ended up in the basement. We —" His voice broke off mid-sentence. Johnny had already turned away and was headed toward the building, but Stanley grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "Gage… I'm not supposed to send anyone in until the site is shored up and stabilized. It's too dangerous."

"You're not sending me." Johnny pulled his arm free from Stanley's grasp. "I'm going."

"You don't understand, John." The chief's voice cracked with exhaustion and concern, then softened. "I can't let you go. At this point… it's considered a recovery, not a rescue. We don't want to put anyone else at risk."

Stanley moved to block his way, but Gage pushed past him, his voice low and full of challenge. "Try and stop me."

A minute later, Johnny felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Chet Kelly drawing up beside him. Chet was off today, but like Johnny, he was all geared up. "The Phantom can't let his favorite pigeon go in there alone." A moment later, both Marco and Mike had joined them as well.

Before they reached the ruins, Chief Stanley himself strode resolutely alongside his men, his steely gaze fixed with Johnny's on the charred and smoking remains of the apartment building, his jaw set in grim determination. Johnny glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. "It could be awful dangerous in there, Chief. You sure about this?"

Stanley shook his head. "Nope… but someone has to keep you twits out of trouble." He clapped Johnny on the shoulder. "To tell the truth, Gage… I had to say those things, but I sure hoped you wouldn't listen. Now let's go get Roy."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The search took six long and frustrating hours and the participation of many more brothers in addition to 51's old A Shift crew. The fire department would not officially encourage the search but stopped actively discouraging it when it one man after another joined the effort despite the danger. Johnny found Roy's helmet and HT amid the rubble of the first floor sometime around midnight, but Roy wasn't with them. The department couldn't bring heavy machinery onto an unstable site, so searchers shifted debris by hand until they discovered where another hole had opened to the basement. Undeterred by the danger, several of the men — including Johnny — descended into the dark, smoky pit.

At last, around three in the morning, the beam of Johnny's flashlight glinted off something shiny that seemed different from the broken, twisted skeleton of the building. He elbowed Matthew Carter, who had partnered with him in the search, and motioned toward the patch of light. "There… I think we've found him! Yeah… the light reflected on his watchband!"

Johnny quickly appraised the scene while Carter whipped out his HT to inform the others. "Chief, we've found Captain DeSoto at the northeast corner of the basement. We'll need the drug box and the biophone, a backboard, a C-collar, and a Stokes… and hands to help dig him out!"

The pair moved carefully, mindful of each step. They didn't want to cause any more damage to Roy than may have already been done. Roy was almost completely covered — if not for his watch, they might never have seen him. While Matthew worked to clear away debris and check for an airway, Johnny gently wrapped his fingers around Roy's wrist. All the while, he willed his friend to say something, to sit up and brush himself off and insist he was fine. "C'mon, Pally," he muttered, "you've gotta give me somethin' to work with!" At last, he felt it… a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there. A relieved grin stretched its way across his features. "A'right, well that's more like it!" He looked up to see how Matthew was doing. "Airway clear?"

"Yessir, Cap." Matthew didn't look up. Instead, he kept busy moving debris. Johnny joined him. By the time the others arrived to help, they had their friend free from the waist up and Matthew had cut away his dusty, sooty clothes. It would take more work to free him from the waist down. A heavy beam lay across his lower legs, pinning him. Johnny dreaded what they would find when they finally managed to remove it. His mind worked through the possibilities as he carefully fitted the c-collar in place. _Crush injuries, definitely… compartment syndrome by now… and all sorts of dangers when we lift that beam and restore circulation. God, we need a miracle here… another one, I mean. The fact that he's even breathing right now is a miracle in itself…_

"Dig him out," he instructed, easily taking charge of the situation, "but don't lift that beam." He knew he should probably move aside and let Bowman — the senior partner in 51's C-shift paramedic team — take over the paramedic work, but he needed to be here, taking care of his best friend… his brother. He thought Bowman understood — the man seemed content to move rubble for now. "Crush syndrome is a possibility… which means he could crash after extrication."

While Johnny catalogued Roy's injuries, Matthew took his blood pressure and evaluated his respirations. Johnny opened the biophone and connected to Rampart. After relaying the vitals, he reported on the injuries he could see so far. "He is unconscious, no response to painful stimuli. There is a head injury. His lower extremities are pinned by a beam. Broken left radius and ulna, closed but with displacement. Numerous abrasions above the waist, but none that I can see look serious. We cannot yet assess below the knees, but he has probable crush injuries from a heavy steel beam."

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At Rampart, Kel Brackett's upper lip twitched with concern. Technically he was off-duty. He'd just been ready to leave when word came of the apartment fire the previous evening, and he had stayed. For a while, Rampart Emergency had been kept hopping with burn and smoke inhalation victims.

Then the apartment building collapsed. A few more victims were rescued before the site was deemed too unstable to allow for any further efforts. But Roy was still missing, and so Kel had stayed even after things quieted down, grabbing what little shut-eye he could on the couch in his office. He had known that the firefighters wouldn't hold back their search for a brother for long, and he intended to be there when Roy came in.

Dixie had stayed as well. She claimed she could sleep on the sofa in the nurse's lounge just as easily as she could at home, but Kel doubted she managed to doze any more than he did. He glanced over at his head nurse, who stood nearby, listening. Dixie was as good as they come… she knew precisely what was at stake.

"Acknowledged, 51." He motioned to Dix to prepare his kit. She knew exactly what he needed without him having to say a word, and she set about gathering supplies. "Do not extricate at this time. I will come to your location. Put him on high flow oxygen and start an IV of normal saline, one liter per hour. Send us a strip. Dr. Early will take over here."

"Acknowledged, Rampart."

Joe had just stepped out of Treatment 1 and was standing in the hall near the nurses' station. Kel rapped on the window to get his attention and beckoned him in. "It's Roy, Joe. They've found him. Sounds bad. They're setting up to send us a strip. I'm headed over there. I need you to stay here on the phone and work with Johnny until I arrive. Carol can call Paulsen down from Cardiac if there's a need."

"I'm going with you, Kel." Dixie stood at the door, Brackett's bag and the field amputation kit at the ready. She held the bag out to him and shouldered the kit.

"Dix..." He could see the dark circles under her eyes and knew she hadn't slept a wink.

"Don't argue with me, Kel. Roy is one of my boys, always will be." She gave him that glare that always made him wonder who was really in charge of Rampart Emergency. Hell… he didn't have to wonder. Dixie was in charge, from beginning to end.

As Johnny's voice came across the wires again, saying "Rampart, this will be lead one," Kel moved past her without another word. Dixie matched him pace for pace down the hall to the ambulance bay.

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Brackett picked his way carefully through the rubble, his natural caution warring with his knowledge that even a few minutes might make the difference between life and death for Roy. His right hand kept a firm but gentle hold on Dixie's elbow, out of concern that she might stumble. The acrid smell of smoke tickled his nostrils. His first thought when he saw the ruins of the Sunny Estates apartment building was that it looked like a war zone.

As he was ushered past the cluster of fire chiefs and policemen before being lowered into this dark pit, he'd overheard the grim statement, "Looks like arson." Five had died… many more were injured… everyone living here had lost pretty much everything. And then there was Roy… Kel hoped he would make it, that the "five" would not have to be revised up to "six." The very thought made his blood boil. How anyone could find satisfaction in taking people's lives, destroying their homes and possessions, was beyond him.

Their guide led them through the rubble to the northeast corner of the basement. Several high-powered lights had been brought in to illuminate the scene. Bowman and Carter were bending over Roy's prone form; Chief Stanley and Chet Kelly had a tight grip on Johnny.

"Let me go!" Gage insisted as he struggled to pull away. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch!"

Kel wondered what the problem was, but then he spotted a flash of red as Johnny wrenched an arm from Chet's grasp and put his hand to his chest. "Just a scratch, huh?" He stepped in and grabbed Johnny's hand. A long, deep cut crossed his palm. "You're out of this rescue, hose jockey. Probably damaged a flexor tendon. You are going to let Dixie take care of you while I work on Roy. But if you cooperate, I won't make you go to the hospital until he goes. No arguments."

Johnny opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again. Kel watched as all the fight seemed to drain out of him. "Fine. Just… take care of Roy." And he allowed Dixie to lead him away.

Kel checked Roy's head injury, then moved around and knelt at his feet. The paramedics had managed to cut away his boots and socks. One look at the mangled right foot was enough to convince Kel that it was too late to save the limb, but he still palpated for a pulse. Nothing. For the moment, the weight of the beam was keeping blood loss to a minimum, but once it was removed, Roy could easily bleed out. And even if he could stop that quickly enough, Kel knew that the damaged cells had released toxins that would destroy Roy's kidneys and possibly trigger a fatal cardiac arrest the moment circulation was restored… unless he took the leg first. He moved his attention to Roy's left leg, which thankfully had good color and little swelling, as well as a strong pulse. From what he could see, the beam had fallen on an angle, sparing the left leg from any serious injury.

"Bowman," he said softly as he moved around to Roy's right side. "I need the amputation kit." He nodded his chin toward where Dixie had set his supplies. "Then you go take over with Gage and send Dixie to me."

"Yessir." Bowman scrambled to do as Brackett had asked.

As Dixie settled in across from Kel and slipped her hands into a pair of surgical gloves, the doctor looked to Matthew. "I need you to keep an eye on his vitals. Dix, tourniquet."

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Johnny watched in horror as Dixie set up the field amputation kit and then passed a tourniquet to Brackett. The sight of the Gigli saw made his blood run cold. "Doc," he pleaded, pushing past Bowman. "Are you sure?"

Kel finished tightening the tourniquet just above the knee, then looked up at him. Johnny could see the regret in his eyes and knew he hadn't come easily to this decision. "I don't have a choice, John. It's his leg or his life — and even then, it… doesn't look good."

At that, Johnny's shoulders sagged, and he nodded wearily. He knew that Brackett understood exactly what this meant for Roy. "Can you at least save the knee?" His voice cracked with exhaustion.

Kel sighed but looked back up at Johnny with a tight smile. "I'll do my best for him, John… you know I will."

While Brackett worked, Chief Stanley moved to stand beside Johnny and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Johnny could barely stomach what he was seeing, but he couldn't turn away either. When Brackett made his first cut into the leg several inches below the knee, he turned a pale shade of green; when the doc unwrapped the wire saw, Johnny finally pulled away from Stanley and Bowman and moved to the edge of the ring of light, where he bent double and vomited.

Chet Kelly, pale as a ghost, sat to the side on a large chunk of cement, his head in his hands, unable to watch. Marco stood by with his head bowed in prayer as he rubbed at his St. Florian medal. Mike separated himself from the others and watched wordlessly, his face pale, tears pooling in his eyes. Well, almost wordlessly. At one point, Johnny could have sworn he heard the taciturn man mutter, "It should've been me."

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The rescuers climbing up from the pit wore exhaustion and sorrow rather than triumph on their faces. They walked with shoulders slumped and heads bowed. Those who had remained above — waiting, hoping, praying — watched silently as Roy was lifted up on the Stokes. Covered as he was with a bright yellow emergency blanket, his loss of a leg was not readily apparent, but word had filtered up and spread from man to man. Most everyone knew of Roy DeSoto. To some, he was a beloved captain, known as a man of integrity and compassion, even-handed and willing to work as hard as his men. Even those who did not know him personally carried a deep respect for this pioneer of paramedicine. The few who did not know his name still recognized him as a brother firefighter, one who had sweated and labored shoulder to shoulder with them and now had paid a high price for his dedication. Though he was unconscious and unaware, every one of them — from battalion chief down to the newest boot — stood at attention as the stretcher was carried past them to the waiting ambulance. Some men crossed themselves, others simply lowered their eyes, but to a man, they all offered their prayers for his survival.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you again to my amazing beta readers. This time I'd like to highlight my son, who willingly takes the time to listen to my stories and cheer me on. He also helps me with my research. Thank you also to katbybee for providing dialogue for Andrew Carter!**

 **Pamela, you reviewed as a guest so I'm responding here. If you take another look at chapter one, you may see that Uncle Willis and his wife, not Johnny and Nita, are the ones I say have been married for 40 years. Johnny and Nita have been married for less than four months. Though I don't think this was unclear in the original version, I have made some edits.**

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 **Chapter 2**

 **Choctaw - English glossary**

Tasembo – Crazy

Halito – Hello

Minko – Chief

Nashoba – Wolf (Johnny's Choctaw name)

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Johnny wasn't sure who drove his Jeep to the hospital. Chief Stanley had demanded his keys, unwilling to allow him behind the wheel. For once, he didn't argue. He knew he couldn't drive right now — the surge of adrenaline that had kept him going through the night was wearing off, leaving him shaky and trembling, and his injured hand hurt more than he would admit to anyone. Besides, he had no intention of being separated from his friend. When the ambulance pulled into the bay at Rampart, Nita and Jo stood waiting with Joe Early. Johnny stepped down and into Nita's arms and held her close, taking comfort in the scent of her hair and the warmth of her embrace for a moment before turning his attention to Jo.

JoAnne stood watching as Brackett jumped down, then directed the ambulance attendants in easing Roy's gurney out of the ambulance. Johnny stepped to her side and put an arm around her shoulder. "He's strong, Jo," he said softly. "He's going to make it." He intended these words as much for himself as for her, but he struggled to believe them. Roy had coded once in the ambulance, but Brackett had brought him back. Sitting, watching, unable to act as the scene unfolded, had been torture for Johnny. "He's got to make it," he whispered. He and Nita gently led Jo to the door, following the gurney.

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JoAnne's heart sank as she watched her husband emerge from the ambulance. She wanted to run to him, to feel his heart beating, to entwine her fingers with his. But Johnny's arm around her shoulders held her back, and Dr. Brackett was rushing Roy into the hospital, barely taking a moment to acknowledge her. How often had Roy told her, in their business even a few seconds could mean the difference between life and death?

She closed her eyes and took in a deep calming breath, then let it out slowly. _It's a good thing they're hurrying, right? It means that whatever else, right now at least, he_ is _alive. If Dr. Brackett stopped to talk with me… well… it would mean there was no hope, no use for the quick pace. Oh God, please… keep him alive._

Ever since news of the collapse had come to her last night, she had been reliving the days when he had been missing and presumed dead in Vietnam. She was stronger now. If the kids lost their dad, they needed to know their mom wouldn't break. So why did she keep thinking of her younger self, sitting in her room with a handful of tranquilizers and contemplating how much more peaceful it would be to die with her love than to go on without him? _Don't you even let your thoughts go there, JoAnne. You kept on going then and you'll keep going now, no matter what happens. Roy needs you to help him get through this!_

Jo gripped Johnny's arm, thankful that he had taken charge, that he was walking her into the hospital, his comforting murmur close to her ear. Even so, she knew he had to be on the edge just as much as she was. She felt the slight tremor in his hand on her shoulder and felt certain the calm he showed now was put on for her benefit. Nita walked on her other side, an arm around her waist, whispering what Jo assumed was a prayer in Choctaw.

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Inside, Johnny led Jo to a chair in the waiting area. "Wait here." He motioned for Nita to stay with her, then went to find Dixie, who had dashed in with Roy's gurney. She stood with Brackett outside Treatment Room 2. Johnny guessed that Lee had already brought in the portable x-ray machine and was taking the required films.

Brackett looked up as Johnny approached, and Johnny knew from the doctor's intent stare that he was in for it. Just then, Mike Morton came around the corner and Kel flagged him down. "Mike… got a patient for you. Hotshot here took off his gloves to go digging through rubble. Probably thought I'd forgotten about it."

Lee stepped out to let Brackett know he was finished, and Brackett turned to Dixie. "Go talk with JoAnne and Nita. Let them know Johnny's getting checked out, and I'll be out with news as soon as I've got some."

"Of course, Kel." Dixie patted Johnny on the shoulder, then hurried to the waiting area.

"C'mon, Gage," Morton said with a long-suffering sigh. "Treatment Room 1 is free."

Johnny hadn't expected Brackett to forget, but neither had he planned on making a big deal of his own injury. It could wait. Roy was the priority here. Reluctantly, he followed Mike into the treatment room and took a seat on the exam table.

Mike grasped Johnny's hand and held it, palm upward, to unwrap it and examine the cut. "This laceration is pretty deep. How did it happen?"

Johnny shrugged. "Couldn't fit my hand under a piece of concrete I needed to move. Took my gloves off. Ended up slicing the palm on a jagged piece of metal I couldn't see."

Morton scowled. "You know better than that, Captain Gage," he snapped. "It was an idiotic stunt to pull and you're paying for it! Now, bend your index finger for me and let me know if you feel any pain." He grasped the other fingers to hold them straight.

Resisting the urge to snap back, Johnny managed to bend the finger at both knuckles. The pain was excruciating, but he masked it. He just wanted to get through this exam and get back to Roy.

"All right, let's check the middle finger and then the ring finger," Morton said coolly.

Johnny avoided his gaze and made it through the rest of the exam without betraying any pain. His thumb and pinky fingers were unaffected, but bending the middle finger was extremely painful, and he could not bend the ring finger at all.

"There it is…" Morton wrote in Johnny's chart as he explained. "You've snapped the flexor tendons that control your ring finger. You'll need surgery to repair the damage. You may have a minor tear in the tendons to the middle and index fingers, but they should heal well with just the splint. You would have a great deal more pain if they were bad enough to require surgery."

"Surgery, Doc?" Johnny shook his head. "Now?" Over the course of the exam, he had silently taken back everything he'd ever thought about Morton's marriage to Kay Fletcher mellowing him. He wished Dr. Early had been available to take care of him instead. The relationship between him and Morton had always been prickly. "I've got to focus on Roy. Can't it wait?"

Suddenly Morton's tone softened. "I know. We're all worried about Roy. And no, the surgery doesn't have to be immediate. We'll splint the hand today and schedule you in a week to ten days. It's a zone three tear — generally a good prognosis. You were lucky, hotshot."

Johnny relaxed a bit and almost forgave the surly doctor. Maybe he was just tired after a long night of worrying about Roy. Nita always said he should give Mike Morton the benefit of the doubt more often, and he supposed she was right. Still, he wasn't going to admit to how much his hand hurt.

"All right, then." Morton made some final notes in Johnny's chart. "I'll send Carol in to get a pressure bandage on that, splint your hand, and then you're free to go. Keep it elevated and follow up with me on Wednesday. Obviously, you're off duty, but all things considered, I figure you would rather be here anyway. Just take it easy for a few days. And if you have pain or numbness, come back. Oh, and Johnny… let someone else take care of the horses."

"Yes, Doc." Ten minutes later, splinted hand elevated above his heart, Johnny strode to the door and into the hallway. He was about to slip into Treatment 2 when Dixie stopped him.

"Roy's gone up for an MRI scan. Jo and Nita are in the nurses' lounge. Kel said I should bring you up when you were done with Mike, and then you can go down with him when he is ready to give them some news. Now tell me… How's the hand?"

"How's he doin', Dix?" Johnny avoided her question for two reasons. For one thing, because he knew Dixie would see right through him; for another, his only interest was news about his best friend.

Dixie took a moment to answer. Johnny knew she would not sugarcoat things, not with him, and he appreciated it. "He scored a three on the Glasgow coma scale. The x-rays didn't indicate a skull fracture, amazingly enough, but Kel wants to check for any bleeding or swelling that wouldn't show up in an x-ray." She punched the elevator button.

 _Only a three?_ Johnny chewed on his lower lip as he considered the implications. That was the lowest possible score. It meant Roy wasn't responding to anything… no opening his eyes, no vocalizing, no movement. Shouldn't he be waking up by now?! _If I'd just found him sooner!_ But no… he couldn't think that way.

They rode up to the second floor in silence and turned right into the hallway, stopping at the door to the MRI room. Dixie directed Johnny to a seat in a small waiting area. She sat next to him and wrapped her hand around his unbandaged one. "His heart rate had stabilized by the time they moved him. Considering what happened, he's actually doing remarkably well, Johnny. It's a miracle he's still alive."

"I know, Dix." Johnny leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "No skull fracture, huh? We thought maybe he…" He yawned. "...rode the debris down, 'stead of just fallin' straight… if tha'... makes sense." His thought processes were slowing down as exhaustion overtook him. "Maybe th —" And with that, he dozed off mid-sentence, his head sagging forward. He never even noticed when Dixie gently lay him down and lifted his legs up so he was lying stretched out across the padded seats.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel chuckled softly as he looked down at Johnny, his lanky form sprawled across the chairs, sound asleep and sawing logs. He'd been there for several hours now, as Dixie had refused to let anyone waken him until she felt he'd had a decent rest. The doctor took note of the splinted hand, carefully positioned on a pillow to keep it elevated… Dixie's touch, he was sure. He would have to ask Morton about the hand later. Really, he would have preferred to tend Johnny himself, or have Joe do it… Morton and Johnny were at odds more often than not, and Kel knew the previous day had been awfully hard for Mike. The man shouldn't have been on duty at all but had insisted he needed to work to take his mind off Kay's diagnosis. At least her meds had her too drowsy at the moment to notice that her husband wasn't at her side.

He bent to give Johnny's shoulder a gentle shake. "Hey, hose jockey. Time to wake up."

Johnny was sitting up and fully alert within a couple seconds, though it took him a little longer to disentangle himself from the blanket Dixie had used to cover him. "Roy… is he —"

"Still alive and holding his own. He's settled in ICU. JoAnne and Nita are up there now."

"Is he conscious?" Johnny finally got free of the blanket and fumbled about trying to fold it with one hand.

"C'mon, Johnny." Brackett rolled his eyes and snatched the blanket away. "Give me that. No, he's not conscious yet. But the swelling is minimal and we didn't see any bleeding. Of course, that could change, so we'll keep a close eye on it. We've reduced the fractures in his left arm and put him in a splint. For now, we'll wait for the swelling to go down before we decide whether or not he requires surgery on it. At this point, I think we can safely say he's going to live."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny let it all soak in as he lumbered to his feet and followed the doctor up to the ICU. He felt an enormous sense of relief that Roy was now expected to survive. Dr. Brackett wouldn't say so unless he was certain. And yet… what sort of life was it Roy would wake up to? In one fell swoop, his career was over. Roy had always struggled with depression, and Johnny was afraid this might just take him over the edge.

A hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts. "Johnny?"

"Huh? Oh… sorry, Doc. Distracted." He barked out a wry laugh. "Yeah?"

"I was asking what Mike had to say about your hand."

Johnny glanced down at his fingers, poking up out of the splint. "Maybe a partial tear… not too serious. I could move 'em OK and everything. He stitched it up, said keep it elevated and follow up with him on Wednesday."

"See to it you do. If you don't take proper care of it, you could do a lot more damage."

"Yessir, Doc." Johnny held the splinted hand to his forehead in a salute. His hand throbbed, but he figured it was nothing he couldn't handle.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Three days into his ICU stay, Roy's coma persisted, though he now scored a five instead of a three. He had not yet opened his eyes, but he had mumbled incoherently and had moved slightly in response to pain. His wife and friends would take any improvement as a good sign.

Five days in, he had blinked his eyes open for a moment in response to painful stimuli, and he had slurred out one word they recognized: "Carter."

At first Johnny suggested maybe he was talking about Matthew, one of the last people he'd seen before the collapse. But JoAnne wondered if maybe he meant Andrew Carter, Matthew's grandfather and Roy's old friend. That evening, when she was home to check on the kids, she made several calls. It was time to let Roy's Camp 208 brothers know what had happened.

JoAnne pulled Roy's address book out of the desk in his den and paged through to the Cs. There, at the top of the page, was the name Andrew Carter. She picked up the phone and dialed the number, then waited for someone to answer.

After a click, she heard a soft female voice with just a hint of a German accent. "Hello, Carter residence, may I help you?"

"Hello... Hilda?" JoAnne remembered Andrew's wife fondly, but she could not take the time to chat. "Um... Hilda, this is JoAnne DeSoto." Her voice was thin and strained. "Could I please speak with Andrew? It's... about Roy."

Hilda must have caught the urgency in her tone because she made no attempt at small talk. "Of course. Just one moment."

A couple of minutes passed and the line picked up again. This time, Andrew's voice came over the telephone wires. "Hello, JoAnne? What can I do for you?"

JoAnne had held back the tears for days, determined as she was to be the pillar of strength for her family and friends, but now she felt them threatening to spill over. She caught in a breath and tried to master her emotions before speaking. "Andrew... it's Roy... He... uh... he was injured in a building collapse last Friday. He's... in a coma. I... I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner, but... well... I've been —" And with that, she couldn't pretend anymore. Every vestige of control slipped away and she found herself sobbing out the whole story. "He said Carter today," she said at the end. "Maybe he meant Matthew, but... maybe he was calling for you. And… I just thought I should call you."

"Could be, I guess…"

His steady tone helped her steady her own. The babysitter brought her a box of tissues and she blew her nose. The cry had done her good and she thought she could go on now, with a greater semblance of control. "Would you let the others know?" Her voice wavered only slightly.

"I will… of course I will. JoAnne, would you like me to come? I can be there within a couple of days."

Her eyes still tearing, she dabbed them with a tissue as she answered. The compassion in his voice seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. "Thank you, Andrew. Yes… it would mean so much to me... and to Roy too, I'm sure. And... do you think... Taffy would come? It's a long way, I know…"

"I can call him if you like, but I am certain he would want to be there."

"Please do, Andrew. Even if he can't come... we would value his prayers."

"Of course, and our prayers are with you as well. You know that."

She nodded, though he couldn't see her. "I know," she said softly. "And thank you. Umm... you could call Rampart and leave a message with Dixie about when you'll arrive. I'm there most of the time these days. I'll make sure someone meets you at the airport."

"Okay, that's fine. I'll call when I get to town. Don't worry about me, I'll get in touch with Matthew as well."

"Thank you, Andrew. I'm... sorry I lost it like that. I'm better now."

"You take care of yourself, JoAnne. I'll see you soon."

When she hung up the phone, JoAnne felt a seed of hope taking root in her heart that hadn't been there before the call. Carter was coming... and maybe Taffy. These men had walked her husband through the darkest part of his life and his bond with them ran deep… deeper, even, she thought, than his bond with Johnny. Somehow, they would make sure things would work out.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny had made an effort to follow up with Morton on Wednesday as instructed, but the one time he saw him, Morton was hurrying to the elevator and didn't even seem to notice him. He thought about talking to Early or Brackett, but there had been no change in his hand since Friday, and Nita was waiting for him. They were going home today for the first time since Friday evening.

He had only left the hospital once in that time, and Nita had been living at the DeSoto's, watching the kids so that Jo wouldn't need to hire a babysitter. Today she'd gotten a neighbor to come over and told Nita and Johnny both that they needed to go home and get a good rest before coming back.

Johnny had argued, but in the end he relented. He was tired and his back was killing him — too many nights spent sleeping in waiting room chairs or sacked out on the sofa in the nurses' lounge. An afternoon at home… some time with the horses… some private time with his wife… a good nap… it sounded wonderful. He had extracted a promise from JoAnne to call if anything changed, and then made his own promise to leave as soon as he saw Dr. Morton. Well… he'd seen him, just hadn't talked with him. It was time to go home.

"Are you sure you can drive?" Nita asked as he slid behind the wheel.

"I'll be fine." If she had learned to drive yet, he would have been glad for her to drive them home, but so far she hadn't taken time to get her permit. Billy had recently earned his license, but he was on duty today, so Johnny would just have to manage.

When they pulled up to the ranch, the door opened and their black lab pup, Tasembo, came running out to greet them. Johnny grinned. Nita's cousin Charlie had come to house-sit and tend the stock for them. The grounds looked like he had been doing a good job. Johnny even noticed that the repairs to the stable roof that he had started before Roy's accident were finished.

Charlie stepped out to the front porch after Tasembo, his young wife Sarah next to him. "Halito!" they called.

Johnny and Nita returned the friendly greeting. Tasembo jumped up to greet Johnny, who knelt to pet the crazy pup and accept some happy kisses. He rubbed the hound's head, then glanced up to Nita. "I'm going to look in on the horses. Meet you inside in a few minutes."

After taking a moment to greet Nita properly as well, Tasembo scampered after his master to the stable. Before stepping inside, Johnny inhaled deeply. The scent of pine filled his senses, washing out the odor of antiseptic that had pervaded them for the last several days. It was good to be home.

Minko nickered from his stall, trying to get Johnny's attention. "I know… I'm comin'," he said, and he stepped inside. The horse stamped and whinnied, overjoyed at Johnny's return and probably expecting to go on a ride up to the meadow. He was a high-strung fellow and didn't take easily to new people, so Johnny had recommended Charlie not try to exercise him with the others. "Sorry, boy… I can't. Doc Morton would kill me." He stroked Minko's neck and then fetched a carrot from the bin to give him. Then he took a moment to greet Jesse and the other horses and give them each a treat before heading inside.

Johnny talked to JoAnne later that evening. She was back at the hospital and nothing had changed. Andrew Carter would be coming as soon as he could. The kids were spending the night with friends, and she told him not to come back until the next day. Reluctantly, but craving a full night in his own bed, his wife beside him, Johnny agreed.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Thursday morning, the Gages awoke to the aroma of bacon wafting through the house. They emerged from their room to find that Sarah had prepared a lavish breakfast. For a brief time, Johnny pushed aside his worries and the two couples enjoyed their time together.

After the meal, Johnny headed back out to the stable to spend time with the horses. Minko snorted and tossed his head, eager once again to get out of his stall and run. "You've had enough of these walls, haven't you boy?" Johnny asked, keeping his tone calm and soothing.

Minko tossed his head again and then nuzzled his snout up against Johnny's ear, pleading with him. Johnny sighed. "Morton be damned," he murmured. "Be right back, boy." He went to the small tack room. He didn't intend to ride, so he wouldn't need reins, and he could manage fitting the lead rope around the horse's neck with only one hand. It wouldn't hurt him to walk Minko up to the meadow and let him run for a bit, and it would only take an hour or so to get there and back… they'd be down to the hospital by noon. Jo had said they should take their time coming in, and a trip to the meadow would help him get centered and focused before heading back into the stressful atmosphere of Roy's room in the ICU.

He led Minko outside and tethered him near the house, then went to the kitchen to let Nita know his plans. With a reassurance that he was just taking a walk to give Minko some exercise, he headed out the door. For the first time in days, he felt… uplifted, peaceful even. Coming home had been a good idea. He grabbed Minko's lead rope and started up the trail toward the meadow.

Later, he wasn't sure how to explain what made him do it. Drunk with the September sunshine? Delirious from the heady fragrance of pine and fir? Probably just plain idiocy. Minko seemed interested in grazing for a bit, so Johnny had taken a break, sitting on an old stump. When he was ready to move on, he just stood up on that stump and whistled for Minko, who trotted obediently to him. Though he couldn't have done it one-handed from the ground without the horse in full tack, it was easy enough to mount from his elevated position. Guiding the horse with his knees, the lead rope draped loosely across his left arm, he headed on up the path.

He never knew what spooked Minko. They had just reached the meadow, where he intended to rest awhile in the shade while he gave the horse a chance to run or roll or graze as he pleased. Suddenly Minko's ears flattened and he reared and Johnny couldn't hold on tight enough or get him under control. He tried to twist himself as he fell to protect his hand, but when he hit the ground he felt a sharp pain in his right wrist. He lay where he landed for a moment, just getting himself oriented at first. When he sat up to take stock, he found that his splint was displaced, his wrist was bent at an odd angle, and his hand had begun to go numb.

"Damn!" At least he didn't seem to be hurt anywhere else. Oh, he'd be sore tomorrow, that was certain. Probably feel like he'd been hit by a semi. But he could still get himself back to the house… Charlie could drive him and Nita back to the hospital. He whistled for Minko, who came trotting back as if nothing had happened.

With a groan, he used the lead rope to haul himself to his feet. Minko nudged his shoulder with a soft snort… Johnny took it for an apology. "I'm all right, buddy," he said. "Let's go."

The trip down took longer than the trip up… and not only because he walked the whole way. He was moving slowly, could feel his muscles beginning to stiffen and rebel, and he was fighting nausea. As the ranch house came into sight, he glanced down at his injured hand and could tell it wasn't good — the coloration was off and his hand felt awfully cold, leading him to believe he'd done something to disrupt blood flow to his fingers.

Charlie came running out of the stable. "We were worried about you, Nashoba! I was just about to ride up and look for you!" He frowned. "You don't look so good… pale as a ghost!" He put an arm around Johnny and led him to a picnic table beside the house, then took care of putting Minko away. For once, the horse didn't complain… maybe he realized something was wrong.

"Sarah! Nita!" Charlie called loudly as he emerged from the stable again. The women came hurrying out, and the three converged on the picnic table and Johnny.

For now, Nita seemed too worried to scold. Johnny was glad, though he knew he'd have to face the music eventually. They got him in the back seat of the Jeep pretty fast and Nita climbed in next to him while Charlie got behind the wheel. Sarah waved goodbye, then went back into the house, with instructions to call Rampart Emergency and let Dixie know John Gage was on the way in with a hand injury.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie leveled a death-glare at her patient. "You were supposed to follow up yesterday."

"I tried to find Mike…" Johnny gave his best effort to looking contrite.

Dixie blinked, then softened. "Oh… no one told you?"

"Told me what? I've been focused on Roy since Friday… barely been out of his room till yesterday."

"Kay Fletcher was admitted a week ago today… I won't go into detail, but she's very sick… yesterday was a bad day. It's… touch and go."

Johnny just stared. He had always liked Dr. Fletcher. "Well, I'll be… no wonder Morton just about bit my head off Saturday morning." He frowned. "Can I visit her?"

Dixie nodded. "I think she'd like that… you always were one of her favorites. But first, let's take care of this hand. Joe Early will be right in."

"Dix… how's Roy?"

"I'd say he's continuing to improve. He responds to painful stimuli… and he's talking a little… though he is not oriented at all, hasn't seemed to recognize anyone when he does open his eyes." She sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't look so discouraged, Johnny. It's going to take time."

Johnny sighed. "I know, Dix. I just…" He looked down at his hand. "I wish I hadn't gone and messed this up… I should be with Roy now."

"You've got plenty of time to be there for him, John," Dr. Early said from the doorway. He stepped into the treatment room and began his examination. It didn't take him long to render a verdict. "Well, it doesn't take an x-ray to tell us you've fractured your radius and ulna at the distal end." He raised an eyebrow as he glanced to the bulge just above his patient's right wrist. "Julian Valdez is reviewing your films now. He will make the final decision, but my guess is, you are headed for surgery as soon the OR is available."

Johnny frowned. "Figures."

Early crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, John Gage, as you know, I tend to keep a tight hold on my temper. I figure Nita will let you have it — if she hasn't already — so I don't have to. But next time you come to us with an injury, if you do not follow your doctor's instructions to the letter, I will happily loose Morton on you. Is that understood?"

"Yessir." Dang, but he felt like a little kid just now. He half-expected Early to send him to the corner. "Won't happen again, Doc."

Dixie smirked. "You won't need to sic Morton on him, Joe. I'll take a strap to him myself."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny's brain buzzed and he felt as if he were suffocating. Was he caught in a house fire? No… not a fire… Drowning maybe? He could hear a distant voice… sounded like Dixie, maybe... calling to him. "C'mon Tiger… wake up now... take a good breath for me."

He struggled to draw in one breath and then a second. His mouth felt as if it were full of cotton. At last everything began to fall into place. _Aw, man… I hate wakin' up after surgery._ He blinked open his eyes. "Hey, Dix," he croaked. "Any news… Roy?"

Dixie shook her head at that. "Johnny, what are we going to do with you?" Well, at least she didn't sound mad at him anymore.

"Please, Dix?" He did his best at tossing her what Nita called his puppy-dog look.

"He continues to improve. Today he has called for Carter a couple of times, and he opened his eyes for several minutes. Jo thought maybe he was watching the television, but he didn't actually respond." Dixie took Johnny's chart from the foot of his bed and paged through it. "And now… about your surgery…"

"Yeah… 'bou' tha'…" Johnny shifted slightly in bed, trying to get comfortable.

She smiled down at him and patted on his arm. "Dr. Valdez said it was a qualified success. He'll come see you once we move you out of recovery, when you're a little more awake, to go over the details with you."

"Koala-fied… huh… no' sure… 'f tha's good… or no'." His speech slurred more as his eyes drooped closed. He was too tired to worry about it just now. "Jus' a li'l nap," he murmured. And before Dixie could hang up his chart again, he was sound asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you, wonderful readers, for your encouraging reviews! I'm getting one more chapter up before I leave on a road trip that will limit my writing time for the next ten or eleven days. I have tried to respond to each review — if I missed yours, I apologize. Please know that your encouragement means a great deal to me!**

 **Marbo — you asked me to update soon and that spurred me on to get this chapter finished today!**

 **Guest — I'm responding to your question here since I can't message you directly. Yes, it's Johnny's right hand and wrist that are injured. I'll go back and make sure to clarify that in chapter two.**

 **A special thank you to my awesome beta readers and to my medical consultants! You are all wonderful!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 3**

 **Glossary:**

 **Choctaw - English**

Ahattak - my husband

Pronunciation note: In Choctaw, underlined vowels are nasalized, putting just a hint of an 'n' sound after the vowel.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Nita…" Dixie stepped into the ICU nurses' lounge and smiled sheepishly, immediately lowering her voice almost to a whisper. JoAnne DeSoto lay stretched out on the sofa, sound asleep. Nita Gage sat nearby, a book in hand, the very picture of calm. But when she looked up from her reading, Dixie could see that, no matter how calm she appeared, her eyes were tired and her cheeks were tearstained. "Nita, Johnny's out of surgery. Dr. Valdez says it went well. He'll be in Recovery for about an hour and then we'll move him to Room 312. You can see him then."

"He has to stay here?"

"Just overnight," Dixie assured her. "He's fine — they want to observe him, make sure there are no post-op complications, before sending him home."

Tears pooled in Nita's eyes, but she blinked them back as she gave a slight nod. "He won't want to go home anyway… he will want to stay near Roy."

"Of course he will." Dixie gave Nita's shoulder a comforting pat. "I know how hard JoAnne had to work to convince him to go home for a rest yesterday. At least if he's here, we can keep his stubborn hide off that horse of his, right?"

Her words had their intended effect — they brought a ghost of a smile to Nita's lips. "He's going to be fine," she continued. Her gaze traveled from Nita's eyes to her slightly bulging abdomen. "And how are _you_ feeling?"

"I'm fine," Nita said, but her words came too quickly to convince Dixie. The stress of the last several days had to be wearing on Johnny's wife, and Dixie ached to do something to bring a real smile to her face or to JoAnne's.

Her eyes alighted on Nita's belly and a thought occurred to her. "Come with me for a few minutes, Nita. I want to show you something." The hospital had recently invested in a new obstetric ultrasound machine and Dixie was eager to test it out. She knew a nurse in OB who would almost certainly be willing to help.

Nita's gaze flitted to JoAnne. "I shouldn't leave."

Dixie smiled. "She'll be all right… what with Johnny's surgery, she won't expect you to stay sitting here until she wakes up. Come on… you'll like this." She reached for Nita's hand and pulled her to her feet, grateful that Nita relented and agreed to go with her.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Nita suppressed a twinge of guilt as she allowed Dixie to lead her from the nurses' lounge. Even if Jo would not mind, she didn't like just leaving her. Still, the gleeful look in Dixie's eyes was irresistible. Nita caught sight of the word "Obstetrics" on a sign as they passed through a door, but the meaning didn't register until they walked by the glass window of the nursery. She would have happily lingered, looking at the babies and day-dreaming about the child that grew beneath her heart.

But Dixie tugged her on down the hall. "Come on," she said. "I want you to meet a friend of mine."

A moment later, they stopped at the nurses' desk and Dixie approached a slender young nurse with red curls. The nurse looked up and a bright smile lit her face. "Dixie! We don't see you up here often enough!"

Dixie grinned back. "Hello, Trish. I brought a friend of mine to visit. And I thought maybe you could help us with something." She winked, and Nita wondered what she had up her sleeve. But then Dixie leaned closer to Trish and the two talked too quietly for Nita to overhear.

A moment later, the two women flanked Nita and led her into a room near the nurses' station. Dixie leaned in and said softly, "Nita, how would you like to show Johnny a picture of that baby when you go in to see him?"

Nita's eyes widened. "A picture? You mean with an ultrasound?!"

"That's exactly what I mean." Dixie flashed her a smile as Trish handed her a gown. "We'll go out in the hall for a minute so you can change into that. Hop up on the table when you're done and we'll be right back."

Nita nodded hesitantly and accepted the gown. She'd heard of ultrasounds before, but her obstetrician didn't have a machine yet. A flush of excitement warmed her cheeks, and as soon as the door closed, she changed into the gown and climbed up on the exam table.

A minute later, she heard a knock and then Dixie and Trish came back into the room. Trish smiled at her. "Nita, I didn't give Dix a chance to introduce us earlier. I'm Trish Arrington. Dixie's a good friend of my mother's and the reason I decided to become a nurse."

Dixie's eyes twinkled. "As if your mother didn't have anything to do with that choice… Nita, Trish's mom Trudy was a mentor to me in Korea. We've been friends ever since and I'm actually Trish's godmother."

Trish flashed Dixie a cheeky grin, but then turned her attention to Nita, suddenly all business. "All right," she said, "how about you lie down now. We can listen to the little one's heartbeat first." She slipped the Doppler device under Nita's gown and slid it slowly across her abdomen, searching for the heartbeat. At last, Nita heard a quick thump thump thump sound. It was more rapid than she had expected and the rhythm seemed… off somehow. She looked into Trish's eyes, searching for any sign that she should worry, but Trish just grinned and glanced at Dixie.

"Let's get a look now, all right?" She squeezed some gel onto Nita's abdomen and then set the probe in place. "Dixie, turn the monitor so Nita can see, all right?" Dixie did, and then Trish moved the probe until she managed to capture an image.

Nita watched wide-eyed as the form of a baby became clear. "Is that…" She couldn't help smiling now, her heart flooding with love for this child in her womb.

"It is," Dixie answered. Trish moved the probe again and the image became clearer… Nita could see a small spot beating rapidly, which she knew must be the heart. Trish pointed out the head and the arms and legs. Then Nita saw another flash of movement behind the baby. She glanced to Trish, uncertain what she was looking at. Trish and Dixie were both grinning ear to ear.

"What is it?"

Trish didn't answer right away but moved the probe slightly. Finally, she patted on Nita's arm and asked, "What do you think Captain Gage would say to having twins?"

Suddenly Nita could barely draw a breath. "Twins?!" she squeaked. "But — "

Dixie chuckled. "Yes, twins. And from what we can see here, they look good. What is the due date your doctor gave you?"

"February 4," Nita whispered. Spellbound, she watched the images on the monitor.

Trish peered closer. "That's pretty close… though the measurements I've taken just now suggest a slightly later date around February 23. Would you like me to try to determine the gender of the babies?"

Nita gave her head a vehement shake. "Oh no… I'd much rather be surprised."

Trish smiled. "Of course… it's not always easy to tell, anyway." She set down the transducer, then pressed a button to print a few images she had saved.

Dixie gently wiped the excess gel from Nita's belly, then helped her to sit up. "Go ahead and get dressed, Nita. You should be able to see Johnny now."

Nita nodded, then reached out suddenly to hug her friend. "Thank you, Dixie! You knew just what I needed."

At that, Dixie's eyes sparkled. "We aim to please around here, Mrs. Gage," she teased. "Now come on out as soon as you're ready and we'll go to Johnny's room together."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The doctor flipped through Johnny's chart, nodding his head and mumbling an occasional, "Mmhmm," then rehung the chart and bent to examine his patient's splinted hand. Finally, he straightened and cleared his throat. "All things considered, Mr. Gage, your surgery went well. I reduced and stabilized the fractured radius and ulna. The displaced bones had been compressing the ulnar artery, significantly decreasing blood flow to the hand, and damaged the median nerve. Once the fracture was reduced, blood flow was restored, and I was able to repair the nerve. However —"

 _Damn… I knew there was a however coming…_ Johnny focused his full attention on the doctor. He hadn't met Julian Valdez before, but the man's reputation preceded him. This slight gentleman with the angular face and piercing eyes and a shock of tousled white hair was considered the best hand-surgeon in the state of California… perhaps along the entire West Coast. Johnny wondered, though, whether his "however" was a prelude to an attempt to hedge his bets or lead up to a serious problem.

"We cannot be sure at this time that you will regain full use of the hand. From what I understand, about four hours elapsed from your fall to your emergency surgery. The possibility exists that there is at least some permanent damage. In addition, I still need to repair the torn flexor tendons — you have a complete tear to the tendons to the ring finger and the middle finger, and about a 60% tear for the index finger. We can wait a few days to deal with that, but we shouldn't put it off long…"

As Dr. Valdez droned on, Johnny's thoughts began to wander. What were the odds… him and Roy suffering career-ending injuries at the same time? The thought gnawed at his stomach and he was glad Nita hadn't come in yet… she was probably still sitting with Jo. He might be able to hide his emotions from the surgeon, but never from his wife, and he wasn't ready for her to know. He sighed and turned his attention back to the doctor, but the man's words only faintly registered.

"...Really, Mr. Gage, I have painted a worst-case scenario for you. Your recovery depends in large part on how hard you are willing to work for it. If you comply with your therapy protocol, you have a good chance of regaining a high level of function."

Johnny nodded, but he hadn't really heard. The phrase 'permanent damage' echoed in his mind, drowning everything else out. He gazed out the window, silently cursing himself for his own foolishness. Nita was going to be furious with him.

The doctor cleared his throat, recalling Johnny's attention. "Mr. Gage, get some rest. Assuming no complications, I will discharge you tomorrow morning. Have a nice evening." Without further ado, he turned and strode towards the door.

Johnny hated hospitals, but for once he had no argument about staying — not that he'd planned to remain in his bed, of course. He had every intention of heading upstairs to ICU at the first opportunity.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie and Nita arrived at Johnny's room just as Dr. Valdez was leaving. He acknowledged them with a brisk nod as he continued down the corridor at a rapid pace.

Nita watched him go, then turned to Dixie. "He must be very busy."

"Oh, he probably has a couple more surgeries scheduled today. I was barely able to squeeze Johnny in, and only because it was an urgent situation." She squeezed Nita's hand. "He's the best in the state and Johnny was lucky to have him. Come on… let's go see how he's doing." She pushed open the door to Johnny's room and Nita heard her speak to him. "I've got someone here who is really anxious to see you, Johnny."

Dixie stepped aside, and Nita pressed past her, hurrying to her husband's side. The sight of him in a hospital bed brought back bad memories of how he had almost died right after they had first been reunited, but at least this time he was conscious and breathing on his own. Forgetting that they had an audience, she kissed him on the forehead, then on the nose, and then the lips, then sat next to him and took his good hand in her own. "Nashoba… you frightened me."

"I know… I'm sorry." He gazed at her, and she could see the anguish in his deep chocolate eyes.

"Tell me, Ahattak, what is wrong?" She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Are you in pain?"

He shook his head. "No… morphine's taking pretty good care of that. Just… feel dumb, I guess. I never should've gotten up on Minko."

"No… but… I understand why you did." She smiled down at him and gently stroked his hand and arm. "Riding brings you peace when you are troubled."

"Any word on Roy?"

Nita shook her head. "Nothing yet. I left Jo sleeping in the lounge upstairs."

Johnny sat up and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed. "I want to go up there… sit with him."

"Hang on there, Tiger." Dixie had been standing near the door, but now she moved in and helped Nita settle him back against his pillow. "You need your rest. There'll be plenty of time to sit with Roy. A couple more hours won't make much difference."

Nita suppressed a giggle when Johnny practically pouted. Sometimes she could swear there was a little boy inside her husband, just aching to get out and run free. Distraction… that's what had always worked on her brother Billy when he was a little boy, pouting because he didn't get his way. She wondered if it would work on a grown man. "I have something to show you," she said, fingering the ultrasound images she had slipped into a pocket of her dress.

He turned to face her again, eyes brightening with interest. "What is it?"

She passed him the first picture. Both babies were visible on this one, but one was somewhat hidden behind the other. He stared at it and then raised his eyes to his wife's. "Our baby?!"

Nita grinned and nodded, then handed him the second picture Trish had printed. This one clearly showed both babies, labeling them A and B. "Try this one."

Johnny stared for a moment, and Nita could see in his eyes the moment when it finally dawned on him what he was seeing. He looked up at her, a mixture of shock and elation dancing in his eyes. "Twins?! We're… having twins?!"

Nita nodded again, happy that the news seemed to have restored her husband's joy. _He will be a wonderful daddy,_ she thought. _I can't wait to see him playing with our little ones._  
"Yes, twins." The thought of it sent a shiver of excitement — and maybe a little fear — up her spine.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Twins?!_ Johnny was stunned. Thrilled, yes… and terrified, yeah, definitely terrified. He wasn't sure what else to say beyond his first shocked statement, but Nita didn't seem to mind. She wasn't usually a chatterbox, but right now she was talking a mile a minute, half in Choctaw and half in English, and he just settled back to listen as she fell back into a conversation about names they'd started a couple weeks ago. She had picked out four boys' names and four girls' names that she liked, and it was a good thing because they were covered, whether they had two of a kind or a mixed pair. At the moment, her favorites were Royal James and Emily JoAnne. Johnny murmured his approval as he settled back in bed. Dixie and Nita were right — he needed to rest before going to visit Roy. The morphine was really doing a number on him. He felt his eyes growing heavier as he listened to Nita's monologue, and before long he was sound asleep.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

JoAnne woke to find herself alone in the nurses' lounge. Well, not exactly alone… Nita had left — she assumed to see Johnny — but Cindy and Suzanne, two of the ICU nurses, were seated at the table, clearly enjoying a break. They talked in low voices until Cindy noticed Jo was awake.

"Hello, Mrs. DeSoto," she said, her whole face lighting up in a bright smile. Jo liked Cindy. She was an excellent nurse, devoted to her patients and to their families, and she always seemed to know what to say to put Jo at ease about her husband's condition and care. Suzanne was younger and less experienced, but a sweet girl, and Jo knew Cindy had become something of a mentor to her. "Nurse McCall came to fetch Mrs. Gage about 30 minutes ago. Captain Gage must have been moved to his room."

"Thanks, Cindy." Jo sat up and stretched. "Anything new with Roy?"

"His eyes were open when I checked on him last, and it seemed like he was tracking me. Dr. Brackett is in with him now — he said I should send you in if you woke up. I know it can be hard to see sometimes, Mrs. DeSoto, but Captain DeSoto is getting a little better every day."

Jo nodded as she gathered her things and got to her feet. "I know… thank you, Cindy. You too, Suzanne. I'm really grateful for all that you do." She glanced from one nurse to the other. "You both go above and beyond… Roy and I… well… we're blessed to have you taking care of him."

Suzanne blushed. "I don't think you know this, Mrs. DeSoto, but your husband is the reason… or at least part of the reason… I became a nurse."

"Really?" Jo had been about to head out the door, but she stopped, intrigued by Suzanne's words.

"I was in a car accident right after I started college… hit by a drunk driver. Your husband and Captain Gage were the paramedics who responded — they had to pry me out of my car." She looked down at her coffee cup. "I don't remember much about it, but Dr. Early told my parents, if it hadn't been for the two of them, I wouldn't have made it. They say I coded in the ambulance, and Captain DeSoto got me back. It took me a couple years to recover and resume my studies, but I knew then I wanted to help people too. I ended up switching to a Bachelor's program in nursing, and I've never regretted it!"

Suzanne's story brought tears to Jo's eyes. She rarely got to meet the people Roy had helped, and most of the time, he tried not to talk much about his work when he came home — though sometimes when a rescue went sour, he would come home depressed and she would have to drag it out of him. She blinked back the tears and wrapped Suzanne in a hug. "Thank you for telling me that." With that, she hurried out of the lounge and across the corridor to Roy's room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dr. Brackett was just checking Roy's stitches. JoAnne hovered for a moment at the door. She knew she had to get to the point where she could look at the stump of her husband's leg without flinching, but it was still difficult. One of Rampart's psychologists had already talked with her about what she could expect from Roy when he awoke and learned what had happened to him and how she could best support him. She swallowed hard, then stepped fully into the room. "Dr. Brackett?"

The doctor looked around and nodded to her, then continued redressing Roy's stump. "JoAnne, come on in. Roy's doing well… emerging a little more each day. I've assessed him at a 9 on the Glasgow scale just now, which is a big improvement. The antibiotics are doing their job — no infection, and the wound closure looks good. He's been saying your name, and I think hearing your voice would do him good. As you know, I have been limiting your visits to 20 minutes every other hour. But now… as long as you promise to go home no later than ten and get a good night's rest, I am going to lift that restriction for you. Roy needs to hear your voice… talk to him, read to him, sing to him, hold his hand… whatever you think would lift his spirits. Keep it upbeat… don't talk about his injuries. But you have to promise me that you will also take care of yourself — when he wakes up, he will need your strength to help him through his recovery."

"I will… thank you, Doctor." JoAnne couldn't help thinking back to the first time she'd met Kelly Brackett. He'd been in opposition to the paramedic program back then, but eventually he'd come around. They'd all been surprised to discover that he had given the testimony that convinced California's legislature to pass the bill that would set the program in motion at last. In spite of that, JoAnne had taken a while to warm up to him. Sometimes she thought he seemed arrogant, but she had watched him more than once treat both Roy and Johnny when they were injured, and the depth of compassion he showed them had won her over. Now she counted him a dear friend.

As Dr. Brackett saw himself out, JoAnne intertwined her fingers with Roy's. He lay still on his bed, eyes half-open, staring over her shoulder at the far wall. She kissed his forehead and then settled into the chair. "Hi, honey. You're looking better. I thought you might like me to read to you a bit."

Dixie had actually suggested a few days ago that Jo try reading to Roy, so she had grabbed a book off his "to-read" stack the previous day and shoved it in her purse. She pulled it out now and held it up for him to see. Roy was a fan of Louis L'Amour and had been happy to find this latest story of the Sackett Family on a trip to the used bookstore with Chris. Jo wasn't sure if he'd read any yet, so she just opened the cover, flipped through the front matter, and started from the beginning. "There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning."*

Her voice faltered a bit as the meaning behind those two sentences soaked in. She knew that when Roy woke up and learned what had happened, he would be tempted to give up… to think his life was over. But she needed to help him see that losing his leg didn't have to be the end… it was just the beginning of something new.

She cleared her throat to fill the silence as she pulled herself together and then continued. "Pa said that when I was a boy. There was a hot, dry wind moaning through the hot, dry trees, and we were scared of fire in the woods…"*

She read on and on and found herself getting lost in the story of the Sackett Brothers. For a little while, it was just Jo, Roy, and "a thousand miles of grass"*… everything else seemed to recede into the distance. When she reached the end of chapter three, though, her voice had begun to grow tired. She needed a drink of water. She set the book down and looked up for a moment. And then she forgot everything else. Roy's eyes were wide open and he had turned his head to fix his gaze on her.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

*These quotes all come from the first page of L'Amour's book _Lonely on the Mountain,_ one of his books about the fictional Sackett Family, first published in 1980.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you to all my readers, especially to those of you who have left reviews. You are a great encouragement to me! I am still traveling, but those long hours of driving across the desert proved to be a real boon to my imagination. I've got one more chapter after this one that should be ready to post in the next few days. I had a great time at my family reunion, but I look forward to getting home tomorrow.**

 **Marbo, your reviews are always a blessing to read… I can't respond to you with a private message as you review as a guest, but I didn't want to neglect thanking you — Thanks!**

 **Thank you also to my awesome beta readers! Katbybee was a huge help on this chapter, especially the scene with Mike and Beth, for which she provided Mike's voice.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 4**

Consciousness didn't rush in on Roy like a flood. For a while now — he couldn't say how long — he'd felt it niggling at the corners of his mind. He could hear a voice… Jo's voice, he thought, the one he most wanted to hear… but it was far away, sounded like she was upstairs reading to one of the kids maybe. Had he fallen asleep in his recliner? He strained to listen closer, but then other sounds started filtering in, almost overwhelming her voice. Loud noises… annoying noises… that beeping — was it the smoke detector? His body tensed and he wanted to move… to get his family out… but he couldn't make his muscles obey him. Finally, he managed to force his eyes open and realization hit him. _Rampart… I'm at Rampart… how'd I get here?_ He tried to figure out what was wrong… what hurt… but at the moment the pain seemed as distant as Jo's voice had at first… he could tell pretty much everything hurt, but somehow it was dulled. _They must be givin' me the good stuff._

When his eyes first opened, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, but he was able to move his head a little bit to the side so he could see Jo. He didn't want to take his eyes off her — she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. She was reading, but the words kind of blended into one another and he wasn't able to absorb them all just yet. And so he just watched her until at last she set the book down and looked up and saw him. Then she smiled, and he couldn't help but wonder how she managed to look even more beautiful than she did a minute ago.

"Roy? Honey?" She reached to caress his face and clasp his hand. "Can you hear me?"

He stared at her for a minute and tried to nod, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. His eyes followed her hand as she set the book on the table beside his bed, and then settled back on her face. He tried his hardest to marshal his words, to answer her question… but at the moment his tongue felt thick in his mouth and all he could get out was one simple word… the one that meant the most to him. "Jo."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

His voice was rough and hoarse, but when he uttered that single syllable, Jo thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back. She had been so worried, that he would wake up and not know her, or maybe think he was in Nam again — that hadn't happened for years, but she knew a traumatic event could trigger one of his episodes. But here he was, eyes open and focused on her and saying her name.

She grasped his hand and thought he gave her fingers a light squeeze. With her free hand, she pressed the call button. "I love you so much, Honey," she said, keeping her voice calm and soothing. His gaze was riveted on her. "I've called for a nurse… I'm going to ask her to let Dr. Brackett know you're awake." Maybe he wasn't actually fully awake, but she chose to remain hopeful. She wasn't sure if she imagined his slight nod or if it was real, but he didn't break eye contact. She bent to kiss him on the forehead.

Just as she straightened up, Cindy stepped in. "Yes, Mrs. DeSoto?"

Jo answered without turning her gaze from her husband. "Roy is waking up… could you please get Dr. Brackett?"

"I'll page him now, and then I'll come back and get Captain DeSoto's vitals." She darted away and Jo heard the page go out a few seconds later.

When Cindy returned, Jo was about to move to make room for her, but the nurse told her to stay put for now. Roy was still clutching her hand and Cindy said she thought the connection was good for him. "Don't worry, Mrs. DeSoto… I've got plenty of space."

Dr. Brackett arrived a few minutes later, and Cindy quickly relayed Roy's vitals. This time, Jo did move out of the way, though she hated letting go of him. She could hear from the beeping of the heart monitor how his heart began to race when she stepped out of his line of sight, so she moved around to the other side of the bed. He turned his head to follow her. She couldn't really hold his left hand, thanks to his cast, but she stroked his brow and murmured softly, and he soon calmed.

"Good to see you waking up, hose jockey," Dr. Brackett said. "And I see you're keeping your eyes on that wife of yours." He glanced at Jo and winked. "I don't blame you one bit. Right now, though, I need you to look this way and follow my penlight."

 _Was that a slight smile or was it wishful thinking?_ JoAnne watched as Roy's gaze slowly moved from her to follow Brackett's light up and down and side to side.

Then the doctor took Roy's good hand in his own. "All right, Roy. I want you to squeeze my hand as hard as you can."

Jo held her breath, silently willing Roy to respond. When a jubilant smile broke across the doctor's face, she knew he had.

"Welcome back, Roy," Dr. Brackett said. "Welcome back."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

As Brackett continued his examination, Roy felt exhaustion slam into him. He wanted answers, but he was too tired to pursue them. He heard Brackett trying to keep him awake, but his eyelids were too heavy… they sagged on their own and just now he wasn't strong enough to stop them. He slipped back into a comfortable darkness, and the last thing he felt before succumbing to sleep was Jo's kiss on his brow. Her whispered "I love you" went with him as he drifted into a dream.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

JoAnne's forehead wrinkled with concern as she looked up at Dr. Brackett, but then relaxed when she saw that he wasn't too worried.

He glanced at her with a tight-lipped smile. "He's just sleeping now," he said. "It's what his body needs." Then he gestured toward the door. "Come on… I'll buy you a cup of coffee and we can talk in the lounge."

"All right." Jo stroked a hand over Roy's forehead again, then bent to kiss him one more time before moving around the bed and following Brackett into the hall. As she passed through the door, a wave of dizziness hit her and she grabbed the door frame. She thought Brackett hadn't noticed, but then she felt his hand on her arm, steadying her.

"JoAnne, tell me something. When was the last time you ate?"

She shrugged up one shoulder and studiously avoided eye contact. "I… had a little something for breakfast." It was the truth… especially the 'little' part. For the most part this week, she'd been subsisting on coffee. Not intentionally, of course… but she had been so focused on Roy, it was easy to neglect herself. "I… um… may have forgotten to eat lunch."

"Now, JoAnne…" Brackett crossed his arms over his chest and his brow furrowed, but when he spoke again his tone was gentle. "That won't do. Remember what I said — Roy needs your strength to get through this. So do your kids. You have to take care of yourself. Listen, the cafeteria is still open for an hour. We'll talk there and you'll have a real meal."

Jo managed a sheepish smile. "I suppose you're right, Doctor."

"Hey, you'd better believe I'm right! Now come on, let's go."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

JoAnne took a bite of a fresh apple. Dr. Brackett had followed her through the cafeteria line, making sure she put together a balanced meal. Ham and cheese sandwich… a salad… the apple… a glass of milk. And then when she opened her purse to pay, he put his hand on her wrist to stop her and told the cashier to put it on his tab.

"You eat… I'll talk," he said when they were seated. He took a sip of coffee, then continued. "Overall, he looks good, JoAnne. The most recent MRI indicates that the swelling in his brain has gone down. You saw just now that he was responding to commands and he clearly knows you. Now, I can't promise anything, but I'm fairly confident that once Roy is fully awake, his cognitive functions will be intact. My concern is how he will react when he realizes what has happened to his leg." He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "JoAnne… what I'm getting at is this… I've been looking through Roy's medical records. I know he served in Vietnam and that he was a POW there… and he came home injured after an escape worthy of the big screen. I need to know, does Roy suffer from PTSD?"

JoAnne's forehead wrinkled. "PTSD? I haven't heard of it."

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." He stretched and took another sip of his coffee. "It's a relatively new name for a stress-related disorder that has been around a long time. It's common in those who have experienced the horrors of war. In the US, we see it often in Vietnam vets. In fact, you might have heard it called Post-Vietnam Syndrome."

"Yes." Jo nodded slowly. "I… don't really know the details of what happened to Roy in Vietnam, but I know it was bad. He used to have terrible nightmares. They resurfaced for a while after his mother died. And… every so often he has… episodes… like… he's stuck back there again. But that hasn't happened for years now."

Dr. Brackett's eyes narrowed. "Must have been really hard for you both. But from what I've seen, Roy has done extraordinarily well dealing with it all. My guess is, a lot of that has to do with you."

"Yes… it was hard, but nothing compared with the months when he was missing… when we thought he was dead. After living through that, I determined I could get through anything. We've had a lot of help, too." Jo smiled. "The friends who got him through Nam and helped him get home are as much his brothers as the men from 51's or 36's. And he had mentors in the fire department from his early days at the Academy who were veterans and understood what he needed most." She couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Sometimes it was a swift kick… sometimes just a listening ear. And either way, they didn't hesitate."

"Good. You need to understand that Roy could suffer some setbacks… possibly flashbacks — those episodes you spoke of — and more nightmares… and almost certainly depression — we would be concerned about that regardless of his history. I'd like to ask my colleague Dr. Richardson to be present when Roy learns about his injuries. Richardson is Rampart's resident expert on stress-related disorders, in particular PTSD, and he has had great success working with veterans. Is it all right with you if I discuss Roy's case with him?"

"Please do… I want to do everything we can to help him through this." Tears pooled in Jo's eyes as she met Brackett's gaze. "I told you when we first met, Dr. Brackett, I'm pretty proud of my guy. That hasn't changed… it never will. I am behind him 100 percent."

Brackett put a hand on her shoulder. "And that, JoAnne, is what will help him more than anything else." He leaned back and polished off his coffee. "Now, it's time to talk about you. First things first..." He eyed her sternly. "You have to take care of yourself. No more missing meals, and you need make sure you're getting enough rest. I don't want to have to admit you. Are the kids helping you at home? How are they doing with all this?"

She sighed. "Chris and Megan are real troupers. They've been helping out a lot. They know about the amputation. Chris is stepping up, trying to be the man of the house while Roy is here. He feels like it's his job to comfort me and to be strong for all of us. But he's just so young… only 13, you know. I… I think I heard him crying last night, but he'd never admit to it and I'd never mention it to him anyway. Meggie… well, she's always been a daddy's girl. She came crawling into my bed a couple nights ago, weeping." She blinked back tears.

Dr. Brackett handed her a handkerchief. "It's all right to cry, JoAnne."

She nodded, but still wiped at her eyes. She didn't want to lose control here, where everyone could see her. Maybe later. Thankfully, Dr. Brackett didn't push the point. "Every day, Megan asks to come see him. She's so worried, but… I don't think he would want her to see him this way… not just yet."

"What about DJ?"

Jo absentmindedly picked at a chipped fingernail. "All he knows is, Daddy is sick. I… haven't told him anything else yet, and I asked Chris and Megan not to talk about it around him." She looked up finally, expecting to encounter a judgmental glare, but Brackett was just listening, his eyes still warm and full of compassion. "I know I need to tell him, but I'm not sure how to address it. He hasn't asked any questions, but… I'm sure he suspects it's something more. I mean, his daddy went to work a week ago and didn't come home, and now I'm gone most of the time. Nita was watching him until a couple of days ago, but I sent her and Johnny home yesterday and then… well… you know how that turned out. So, DJ is with a sitter today. This morning, I told him Franny would meet him at the bus after school… and suddenly he was sucking his thumb again, which is what he does when he's stressed. I need to find out what's going on there… but I think he's just missing his mama and daddy."

"JoAnne…" Dr. Brackett clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know this is hard, but he does need to know… and I think the kids need to come visit soon… all of them. I can talk with DJ if you think I could help prepare him. I also think it would benefit you to meet with Dr. Richardson. You're going to get through this… and you're going to get Roy through this. But you can't do it alone. I want you to know you can count on all of us… Dixie, Joe, the Mortons, me… we're all here for you."

JoAnne dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief again, but a couple of tears still escaped and tracked their way down her cheeks. "Thank you, Doctor… I… um…"

"Go on," he told her. "You can use my office if you need a moment to yourself before you go back upstairs. I'll clean up here."

She patted her cheeks and eyes dry again and hurried out, and even though before she reached the door, the tears were streaming down her cheeks again, she felt more hope than she had all week.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike lay sprawled on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, a bottle of Heineken within easy reach. He had called in sick for the second time this week and had spent the entire day in bed. Beth had indulged him at first, bringing him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sending the kids off to the gym after school so the house would be quiet in the afternoon. But she had finally rousted him, insisting she had to change the sheets and couldn't do it around him.

He groused and grumbled, but he got up, snagged a beer from the fridge, and settled in on the sofa. He thought about getting up to turn on the news but lacked the motivation to move. Besides, the news would just depress him. Maybe Beth would want to throw something in the VCR… though he probably wouldn't watch. Nothing really appealed to him at the moment.

A few minutes later, Beth joined Mike on the sofa and snuggled up next to him. "Mike, honey... we need to talk."

Mike couldn't help rolling his eyes at the "we have a problem" tone in her voice. Somehow his wife's slight French accent became more pronounced when she was troubled about something. He sat up to make more room for her, his thoughts automatically going to the usual source of her frustrations. "What did the boys do now?"

She rested a hand on his knee. "The boys are fine, Mike. You're the one we need to talk about. Skipping work… and lately you hardly say a word... you storm around the house like a thundercloud waiting to burst."

Mike couldn't hold back a scoffing laugh. "The fact I hardly say a word surprises you how? You mean you're not used to this by now? I'm fine." It was time to change the subject… get her attention off him. "Dinner was good, by the way."

When his mild-mannered wife muttered a mild epithet in her native French, Mike knew his diversion tactic had failed him. "We are not talking about dinner, Mike. And don't use that tone with me. Yes, I know you barely talk away from home, but you always talk with me… until last week. Mike, you've been upset ever since Roy's accident. We need to talk about it."

Mike sighed, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine," he muttered. "It's just… it's not right.

Beth reached a hand behind him to massage his neck and he couldn't help but lean into it. "What's not right, Mike?" she asked softly.

Her small fingers working out the knots in his neck felt good, but now he reached to push her hand away. "Roy losin' his leg. It's… it's all my fault, Beth."

"Your fault?" Beth shook her head. "What… you started that fire? You knocked the floor down and made R — "

"No! Of course not!" He pressed his fingertips hard against the sides of his head. "You know that's not what I meant. Hear me out, Beth, please. Just listen to me! I didn't start that fire, but _I_ should have been the one pullin' those people out, not Roy! That is a flat-out fact. It was my shift, not his! And there is no changing that!"

Her fingers found their way back to his neck, searching for and rubbing at tight muscles. "So, if you had been hurt the day before on Roy's shift, would that be his fault?"

 _Man, she's good_. He didn't resist this time, allowing her to move her hand down his back, working out the kinks. "I might not feel that way, but you know damned well _he_ would, and you cannot tell me I'm wrong."

Beth pulled her hands back, then turned herself so she was looking Mike directly in the eyes. He looked down, but she captured his chin in her deceptively delicate fingers and lifted it so he had to look at her. "Yeah, knowing Roy, he probably would blame himself. And he would be wrong... just as you are. The way I see it, there is only one person to blame for what happened to Roy, and that is the arsonist."

Mike took hold of her hands and pulled them down but kept eye contact. "Logically, you may be right, but my heart tells me you're wrong. And, Beth, how the hell can I go on leading my men when my head and my heart are torn completely apart?"

"All right then… the question is, how can we knit you back together, Mike?" She pulled her hands free and caressed his cheek. "The boys and I need you whole."

He sighed heavily. "I know… and so does the Department if I'm gonna keep doing my job. If only… Oh, babe, how I wish I had a time machine right now… I'd go back to when all I had to worry about was makin' sure nobody scratched Big Red!" He sank back into the couch, tears in his eyes.

She kissed him, then snuggled against him, wrapping her fingers around his. "We can't go back. You know I'd give anything if we could. But Mike, we can only move forward. So... what does that look like for you? And how can I support you? That's why I'm here, you know."

"I don't know, Beth... I'm not sure right now… I think I would be doing better if we could just catch that son of —" He stopped mid-curse in response to her glare and amended his choice of words. "I mean… that _idiot_ who set the apartment on fire."

Beth nodded slowly. "Well, is there a way you could be a part of that?"

"I feel like I need to do something myself… like, that's the only way I can make this right. People died, Beth… _kids_ died!"

"I know." She squeezed his hand. "Then do something about it, Mike."

As he thought, the shadow that had hung over his thoughts for the last week seemed to recede, if only a little. "Well, a lot of my Fire Science degree credits could transfer over to Arson Investigation. I could fast track into that division with some really hard work over the next year… and I would bet I could talk to the guys over there if I enroll right away, full-time, and even get involved with the investigation. But it might mean resigning as Captain at 51's. And that means we would have to dip pretty heavily into our savings for a while… maybe even into the boys' college funds."

Beth nodded. "You know, they are old enough that I could go back to work."

His eyes met hers as he tried to gauge how serious she was about that suggestion. "But you love staying home… and Arson Squad can be dangerous. Plus, it would mean a lot of hours away from home studying, just like when I went after my degree. I remember how tough that was on you."

Beth paled slightly, and Mike could have kicked himself. He didn't mean to make her think back to those days… and in all truth, there had been dark times he wouldn't want to revisit. When she responded, her voice sounded thin, but he could still hear the resolve behind it. "I was a lot younger then, Mike. I was just learning..." She stopped for a second, swallowed hard and blinked back tears. "Just learning how to be a mom. I got through it then... I'll get through it now."

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "I miss her too, Hon," he said. "Every day. I hear people say that time heals all wounds, but that's bull. It just slows the bleeding a little. That's all."

She nodded and blinked again, then raised her gaze to his and said fiercely. "You need to do this, Mike. For Roy... for those kids who died... and for you."

He breathed in deep and gave a vigorous nod. "Yeah. Yes. Okay. We need to talk to the boys first… they've got to step up and help you at home more for this to work. Besides, I owe them an apology… and I owe you one too." He lowered his lips to hers and tenderly kissed her. "I love you, Beth Stoker."

"I love you too, Mike Stoker." She giggled and pulled slightly away so she could look into his eyes. "I've said it before... and I'll say it now. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

Mike chuckled. "I told you that the day I stopped running long enough to let you catch me."

Beth smacked him playfully on the shoulder, and he grabbed her into his arms, picked her up, and carried her to their bedroom. She had lifted the storm clouds and lightened his burden, and he knew just how he wanted to thank her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I'm loving all the feedback! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! Marbo, your reviews are especially thoughtful and constructive! Thank you for the time you put into it — it really means a lot to me. Yes, you have read my implications in Mike's backstory correctly. This may sound crazy (at least to those of you who are readers but not writers), but in the middle of writing that conversation, Beth started telling me about losing their little girl, back when Mike was still in training. Yeah… the characters talk to me… that's how all my stories get started, it seems. Anyway, I guess this means I have another story to write eventually! I actually imagine Beth as the daughter of a French Catholic lay-missionary and a Japanese woman, born in Paris and raised in French Polynesia. French is her first language, but she is fluent in English and Japanese as well. I'm not sure what Mike will end up doing long-term, but right now participating in the hunt for the arsonist is what he feels he needs to do.**

 **Thank you as always to my beta readers, who go above and beyond to help me make sure each chapter is ready to go before I post it. For this chapter, katbybee has lent me her version of Peter Newkirk, from her Hogan's Heroes stories, and she provided his voice in most of his conversation with Roy. To understand Newkirk's backstory, I suggest reading kat's story Earthquake. It's an excellent story, and it will explain how her version of Newkirk lost a leg. Also, I mentioned in the last chapter that Roy was a POW in Vietnam and that he was part of a rescue "worthy of the big screen." To learn more, read kat's Three Ring Circus, which intertwines the story leading up to Stalag 13's liberation with the story 20 years later of some of Hogan's men in Vietnam and the escape from Camp 208. Roy appears in this story.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Glossary: Choctaw – English**

Ahattak – My husband

 _All other Choctaw is translated within the text._

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 5**

Johnny's discharge came through quickly that Friday… mainly because he had ranted at one too many nurses that morning and — as much as they loved him — they were anxious for him to go. As usual, he argued about leaving via wheelchair. "I'm not even goin' far," he protested from his perch on the edge of his hospital bed. "Just upstairs to ICU, and I don't see why I need a wheelchair for that."

"Hospital policy, Captain Gage," Nurse Debra Houghton insisted. "Once you are discharged, I can accompany you to your car and get you settled in a _passenger_ seat, and then you're free to walk back in as you please… but until you have actually left the hospital, you are stuck with this chair, even if you do make a detour to the ICU."

Johnny moaned. "How many times do I have to tell you? My car's not here… no one is here to drive us home because I'm not planning to go home yet! Look… just let me walk upstairs and I'll take the chair when it's time to go."

Nita giggled, and Johnny tossed her a pleading look. "A little help here?"

"Nashoba," she soothed, but he could tell she was holding back a grin. "Who am I to argue about hospital policy?"

"Besides," Debra whispered conspiratorially. "This chair is a lot more comfortable than the chairs up in the ICU rooms. I think they planned it that way so visitors don't stay too long."

"Ahattak —" Nita's voice went from tender and soothing to stern in the space of a millisecond. "The longer you argue, the longer it will take us to get upstairs. Just listen to the nurse!"

He leveled a crooked grin in his wife's direction before spouting off in Choctaw. "Himak onnahinli vm ohoyot nita nokowa ahoba." He hadn't spoken the language regularly since he was sent away to school at 12, and he was pretty rusty, but it was coming back with Nita's encouragement.

Nita swatted him on the shoulder. She hadn't laughed, but Johnny noted with satisfaction that her tone lightened and her eyes danced when she answered, "Nita nokowa ahoba li keyu! Nita nokowa sia! Now plant yourself in that chair so we can go!"

"Fine," he said with an exaggerated sigh. He stood up, then folded his lanky body into the wheelchair.

Debra just watched, confused. "What… what did you just say?" she finally asked.

Johnny chuckled. "That was Choctaw. I said, 'My wife is like an angry bear this morning,' and she responded, 'I'm not _like_ an angry bear… I _am_ an angry bear!' It's a pun, really, because her name — Nita — actually means bear."

Debra laughed and nodded, then caught up the bag of Johnny's belongings and passed it to Nita.

With his injured hand splinted and in a sling, Johnny struggled to steer the chair to the door; he had almost made it when Debra caught hold of the chair handles and stopped him. "If you don't mind, _I'll_ be your driver, Captain Gage." She gave him no opportunity to protest, but just pushed him into the hall and to the elevator, with Nita walking alongside.

When the elevator opened, they found JoAnne on her way up as well. Johnny could see right away that the dark circles she'd sported under her eyes much of the last week had faded and her whole body seemed to have released some of that tension they'd all carried. From the way her smile reached her eyes, Johnny knew she must have had good news. "Hey, Jo," he said, flashing her a wide grin. "You look like you got some rest."

"Hi, Johnny." She gently squeezed his shoulder. "Good to see you. Yes… last night when I was leaving, the nurse informed me that barring any complications, I would not be allowed to return until 10 this morning, by Brackett's orders." He looked up at her in time to catch her sheepish grin. "He noticed I was… well… not at my best."

Johnny nodded. He could certainly understand that, and he was glad Brackett was looking out for JoAnne too. The elevator opened to the ICU waiting area, and the ladies stepped off before Debra pushed Johnny out. "I'm leaving you in good hands with your wife, Captain Gage," the nurse said. "I have a feeling she will make sure you behave. Let me know when you are ready to leave."

"Yes'm," he said, his frustration and rants forgotten. He just wanted to check on his friend. He returned his attention to JoAnne. "Go on… how's Roy?"

"He was awake briefly last night," she continued. "He could track movement and he knew me and he squeezed Brackett's hands when asked. Brackett says he looks good. He was still pretty out of it, though… and he doesn't know about his leg yet… or at least he didn't then. I don't know if he has learned since." She paused and her eyes widened. "Oh, Johnny… I'm sorry… I wasn't thinking… how are _you?_ I didn't actually see Nita again after your surgery yesterday, so I didn't get to ask."

Johnny shrugged. "I'll be fine. Just need time to heal now." He didn't really want to get into it… he still hadn't told Nita his concerns that his stupidity had put an end to the career he loved. Normally she could read him like a book, but she was still on cloud nine over the ultrasound and the revelation that they were having twins. He didn't mind, because he needed time to absorb the situation himself first, before he discussed it with her. He grinned up at Jo. "Nita should give you our real news." He winked at his wife.

Nita blushed deeply, then reached in her pocket for the ultrasound pictures. She thrust them at Jo just as the elevator opened on the ICU level. "Look!"

JoAnne gazed at the pictures for a long moment, then looked up. "The baby? I've heard of these pictures… but never actually saw one."

Nita was glowing. "Not the baby… the babies!" Johnny loved hearing her delighted squeal, which was echoed in short order by JoAnne.

Jo pulled Nita into a hug. "Twins! I'm so happy for you!" She hugged Johnny next. "The two of you will be great parents."

"Thanks." Johnny was satisfied to have diverted attention from himself for the time being. "C'mon… let's go see Roy."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _"Roy… it's time to wake up! C'mon… open your eyes, Roy."_

The voice came from far away at first, but then rushed up close and got loud. Was that Johnny? Roy vaguely remembered waking to find himself at Rampart earlier, though that was about all he remembered. This time felt different, though… it came quicker, he thought… easier… it wasn't fuzzy around the edges, though he was still groggy. And this time, it hurt more. His leg was itching like crazy. He twitched his fingers, tried to sit up, but he couldn't manage it. Finally, he blinked his eyes open to see Johnny's worried face looking into his. "Hey, Junior," he rasped.

Johnny's frown melted into a lopsided smile, but the concern in his eyes didn't fade. "How you feelin', Pally?"

"Hurtin'."

"Yeah, I imagine you are." Johnny shifted slightly, and Roy couldn't help but think he looked awfully uncomfortable.

"What happened?" He sought through his memories, trying to find something… anything… that would clear things up, but the last thing he remembered was Johnny's birthday party, up at the ranch in Tujunga Canyon. He stiffened suddenly. "The kids… Jo… they're…"

"The kids are fine, Roy. JoAnne is fine. You were in a building collapse at an apartment fire just over a week ago." Johnny looked down, then back up, and he quirked up the corner of his mouth in a wry grin. "We… uh… found you in the basement, but you started on the third floor. Took us a while to get to you." He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "It's a real wonder you're alive, actually."

"How bad?" Roy figured Johnny would know what he meant — stringing together more than a couple words at a time took too much effort at the moment.

Johnny glanced down again. _Damn… must be real bad. He doesn't know how to tell me._ "C'mon, Junior… give it… straight."

The hurt in Johnny's eyes when he finally met Roy's gaze again was palpable. He shrugged. "Concussion… left arm's broke… and…" His voice failed him.

"And?" He didn't mean to snap, but he couldn't help it. "Tell me."

His friend's Adam's apple bobbed, and then the words tumbled out. "Your right leg… it was… crushed. Couldn't be saved. Brackett had to… take it… in the field… so we could get you out."

Roy shook his head. "No… no, no, no." It wasn't possible… couldn't be! His right leg was killin' him… itchin' like crazy. "'S'not funny, Johnny…" he protested. "Stop… kiddin' around."

Johnny put a hand on his arm, grasped it tight, and shook his head. "I'm not kiddin', Roy. There was a heavy beam… landed on your leg and pinned you. Even if it hadn't been crushed… extrication could've —"

"I wanna see." Roy stared Johnny straight in the eyes, looking for any sign that his friend was puttin' him on, but he saw nothing but anguish there… and truth.

"Roy… I think you'd better…"

"I want to see." He struggled again, trying to sit up, but couldn't manage it. At last, with a deep sigh, Johnny cranked up the head of his bed, raising him to a sitting position. A wave of dizziness forced Roy to hold tight to Johnny's arm for a moment, but when it was cleared, he reached to pull the sheet away from his legs. His eyes followed the line of his right leg down to where it was swathed in bandages. The leg stopped short a few inches below the knee.

Roy fell back against his pillow. "Well, shit." Didn't seem to be much else to say.

"Roy…" Johnny lowered the bed so he was lying down again.

"Get out, Johnny." The words came out in a quiet monotone. Roy just wanted to slip back under the covers and go to sleep… maybe never wake up again. His world was crashing down around him and he wasn't sure how to cope.

Johnny just stood there, gaping. "But Roy…"

"Get. Out. Now." Roy reached with his good arm for whatever he could find. His fingers lighted on a paperback book on the swivel table by his bed. Without even looking at it, he hurled it hard as he could toward Johnny. He didn't mean to hit him, but it caught him just above an eye and opened a small gash.

"Dammit, Roy! Fine… I'm goin'."

Only when Johnny got up to walk out did Roy notice his friend was injured too, his right hand splinted and in a sling. A pang of guilt softened his tone. "Hey… wait a minute…" he grunted. Johnny stopped at the door but didn't turn around and didn't speak. "What happened to you?"

"Fell off my horse. Messed up my hand. I'm washed up, same as you."

From the way his friend seemed to spit out the words, Roy had the feeling there was more to the story, but he wasn't up to asking just now. As Johnny pushed through the door, Roy turned sullen eyes to the ceiling and kept silent.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Back in the waiting area, Johnny flopped himself into the wheelchair with a sigh. Nurse Houghton was right — it was more comfortable than the plastic chairs in the ICU rooms. The ladies turned questioning eyes on him. "Well… he knows now."

JoAnne turned and hurried past the nurse's station toward Roy's room, but Nita sat next to him and pulled a handkerchief from her purse to press against his forehead, just above his left eye. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothin'. He didn't mean it." Johnny shrugged. "Guess I should be thankful it wasn't War an' Peace he threw!"

Nita pulled out her pocketbook and opened it. Tucked inside were some adhesive bandages. She smiled as she tore the top of the wrapper straight across, then tugged downward on the little red string to reveal the Band-Aid within. "When Billy was five or six, he was always getting into one scrape after another. I got in the habit of making sure I always had bandages handy for him… guess I never got out of that habit, even when he outgrew that phase."

"Good thing for me." As her gentle hands carefully dabbed once more at the cut, then bandaged it, Johnny couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten on so many years without her. When she finished her doctoring, he turned the chair so that he faced her, then gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, taking comfort from her fragrance.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Jo stood at the door to Roy's room for a long moment. Everything was silent inside, but even out in the hallway she could feel that the air in there was thick with tension. At last she sucked in a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked in.

Roy was lying in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He didn't turn toward her or acknowledge her in any way. As she drew closer, her heart sank at what she saw. His eyes were just blank. No emotion at all.

The sight reminded her of when he first came home from Nam. When she and Mama DeSoto went to visit him in the VA Hospital, he'd lain in his bed just like that. She'd been so grateful to learn he was alive, but in those first weeks she began to wonder whether her Roy had actually survived at all… whether maybe his body had come home to her a breathing but empty shell.

Over the months that followed, with a lot of patience, prayer, and love, she and Mama DeSoto broke through the stony silence and the vacant gaze and had found Roy once more, gradually drawing him out of hiding and back into the world. He wouldn't talk about what he had experienced in Nam, but Jo got bits and pieces from the friends who had been through it with him, who had stuck with him closer than brothers, and she finally accepted that when he needed her to know, he would tell her.

One year to the day after Roy's return, her Daddy walked her down the aisle at their wedding. Two weeks later, Roy started classes at the Fire Academy. JoAnne had worried that such a stressful job would only intensify his occasional episodes — the moments when his mind carried him back to that prison camp in Nam — but working as a firefighter and a rescue man, living out his passion for helping people and saving lives, seemed to heal something inside him. Sometimes a particularly bad rescue would bring back the blank stare or the nightmares for a time, but the episodes grew fewer and farther between.

 _Well… at least I know where to start._ She sat down beside her husband, trying to decide whether it was all right to touch him. Sometimes when his mind took him back to the prison camp, it was better to hold back, to talk soothingly. Used to be, she could call Gus, and the sweet hound would jump up on the bed and stick his nose up close to Roy's face and bring him back quicker than anything. But Gus had died of cancer about six months ago and neither she nor Roy had the heart to get a new dog yet.

At last she made up her mind and wrapped her fingers around Roy's. When he didn't pull away, she knew she had made the right choice. Willing her voice to remain steady, she swallowed hard before speaking. "Roy… Honey… please, don't disappear on me again. I need you… the kids need you…"

She fell silent for a long moment, praying that he would respond. At last he drew in a shuddering breath. When she looked up, she saw his eyes filling with tears. He made no move to wipe them away, and soon they were spilling down his cheeks.

"I'm broken, Jo. There's… no fixing this."

She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, then pulled out some tissues from her purse to wipe the tears from his face. She felt her own eyes pooling now but managed to blink the tears back. "Roy, listen to me. I know this is a terrible blow… waking up to this. And I'm sorry I can't change it… but… as Dr. Brackett told Johnny, it was your leg or your life, and… I know which means more to me."

"It would've been easier if I'd just —"

"Don't you even say it!" Jo's eyes flashed. "You are far too important to me —"

"Let 'im say it, luv. He needs to get it out." The familiar quiet voice startled Jo into silence and she pivoted to face the newcomer. He stood in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame.

"Peter!" Jo's heart leapt at the sight of Roy's good friend. She knew he would come but hadn't expected him so soon.

"In the flesh." Peter Newkirk stepped into the small room. He gave JoAnne a quick hug, then met her gaze. "We'll get through this. Give us a minute, will you?"

JoAnne nodded. She bent to kiss Roy on the forehead and squeeze his hand. "I'll be back in a little bit," she promised. She stepped to the door, then turned back. "Thank you for coming, Peter." With that, she slipped through the door and headed back to the waiting area to find Johnny and Nita.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Peter stared at the man in the bed. The years had been fairly kind. But now he looked like a whipped dog. Peter shook his head and sighed as he grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to the bed and sat down uninvited. "You're right, mate. You are broken. An' it stinks. Thing is, what are you gonna do about it?"

Roy shrugged and stared at the wall. "They should've just let me die."

Newkirk's green eyes snapped in real anger. "Oh really? And just who should have done that? Johnny? Matthew? Dr. Brackett? How dare you?! Who do you think you are, anyway? Okay, mate! You wanna waste all the effort they went to? Here!" From his boot he pulled a small pistol to which he swiftly attached a silencer… an assassin's weapon. "I'll tell you what me mate Carter told me back in 1943: 'I dare you.' But Doc... you have never struck me as the quittin' type before. Be a helluva time to prove me wrong."

Roy finally turned his head and looked at Peter. "Here in the hospital? Really?"

Peter lay the pistol on the table between them and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and shrugged up a shoulder. "Good a place as any. I was in the Stalag infirmary when I stole a medic's scalpel an' planned to slit me wrists."

Roy shook his head. "No way... Jo's comin' back... can't let her come in and find... that."

Peter shrugged. "Well, if you're sure…" He picked up the pistol and broke it down, then put it away. "Thought you didn't care if you lived or died. Why should you care what Jo would think?"

"She's my wife, dammit... of course I care."

Newkirk's tone softened. "Look, mate. I get it. I do. This is _me_ you're talkin' to. I been right exactly where you are. An' I did try to kill myself! Right in front of all me mates! If it hadn't been for Carter, I would've. An' it would've been a mistake. You got people… family. If you can't live for you right now, then live for them. You'll find your balance. I promise. It'll take a while an' it won't be easy, but you will find it."

Peter was quiet for a few minutes. "You know something, Roy, it's okay to be angry. It's okay to haul off and have a helluva fit, actually. Might be good for you. If the docs would let you get outta this room, I could take you outside and let you get it all out… you'd feel a lot better. Carter did that for me, y'know. He took me down into the tunnels."

Roy blinked back tears and nodded. "I am angry… but who should I be angry at? My friends tried to save me… did their job like they're supposed to… Can't be mad at them… Doc did what he had to do… And… what use is it yellin' at God? Won't get me my leg back."

Peter grinned. "No, not _that_ leg, anyway." He tapped his prosthetic. "There's alternatives. But… as to who you can be mad at and who you can yell at? Well, yell at all of 'em. Be mad at all of 'em! How 'bout this… be mad at the neddy git who started the fire in the first place! It's fine! Bein' angry doesn't have to make sense. And it does help to blow off the steam."

Roy's gaze wandered to the ceiling for a long moment before he met Peter's eyes again. "It's a lot to take in… I think… I just need some time… to think about it all right now. But I promise you… I'm not gonna do anything stupid. I won't hurt Jo and the kids that way."

Newkirk nodded. "Good enough fer me, mate." He lay a hand on Roy's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll step out fer now, give you some space, but I ain't goin' far. If you need anything, I'm here."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy's eyes felt heavy as he watched his friend disappear through the door. Newkirk had given him a lot to think about, but he was starting to get awful tired again. The conversation had taken a lot out of him. He didn't want to disappoint Jo by nodding off again, so he tried to fight it, but his body knew what it needed and within a couple minutes of his friend's departure, he was once again sound asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Have you ever had a chapter just write itself? That's what happened with much of this chapter — in particular the scenes with DJ and Winnie Canfield. Winnie jumped into the story one morning while I was traveling, getting ready for a day of driving. I couldn't write most of the day, so the scenes just had to take shape in my head (my daughter can attest that I was not much of a conversationalist that day)… when I finally reached my parents' house, I gave quick hugs and immediately went to my guest room to write it all down before it vanished! I'm very pleased with the results.**

 **As always, thank you to my beta readers, and today a special thanks goes to my "World-Faring Strangers" writing group — I love our word sprints and our crazy conversations and the amazing encouragement y'all offer me! I've never actually met any of you in person (that will be changing soon, though!), and yet I count each of you among my dearest friends! So, Fuzzy… Shieldmaiden… Mae… Luna… thank you!**

 **Thanks as well to all my readers, especially those who leave reviews. Marbo, I'm giving you a shout out here again because I can't message you privately. You have become a model to me of what a thoughtful and constructive review should look like! I can't answer all your questions because… well… spoilers. But I can say that Johnny wasn't really listening to his surgeon after the surgery — he got caught up on the words "permanent damage" and missed the part about how his level of recovery depends on how hard he is willing to work for it. I'll explore that issue more later.**

 **Finally, DJ DeSoto is one of my favorite characters for writing deep third POV. If anyone wants to know more about this youngest DeSoto child, you'll find the story of his birth in my story, The Gift. He also has a few scenes in Stirring the Ashes of Memory.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 6**

DJ DeSoto was having a bad day. In fact, it was so bad it made the seven year old think of his new favorite book, _Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day._ His teacher read it in school and he liked it so much he got his Mama to buy a copy for him at the bookstore.

But his day was lots worse than Alexander's. He didn't get gum in his hair or trip on a skateboard or go to the dentist, but his Daddy and his Mama were gone and he wanted them both home! Instead he was stuck with that mean girl Franny Davis from across the street, but she was watching her soaps and told him to be a good boy and go play in his room till time for supper. And he just got home from school, so supper was still a long time away. He wished Chris and Megan were home, but Mama said they were goin' home with friends after school again and wouldn't be back till tomorrow.

Mama said Daddy was sick, but DJ was pretty sure it was worse than that because Daddy went to work one day and then didn't come home and Megan started crying and pulled Chris into her room and shut the door and wouldn't let DJ in, and Aunt Nita came over and sat with Mama on the sofa and hugged her and they cried together and then Mama asked Nita please to stay with the kids while she went to the hospital. The hospital was where people went when they were real sick or hurt bad and needed a doctor to fix them up.

DJ kinda remembered bein' in the hospital when the doctor fixed his heart, but that was a long time ago. Anyway, Daddy must need lotsa fixing up because Mama was gone most of the time now and when she did come home she looked kinda sad and kinda scared and lotsa tired. And now Aunt Nita was gone too and Franny was here and that made DJ want to growl like a very angry little bear.

Franny could be nice enough when grown-ups were around, but when they weren't, she wrinkled her nose at DJ and sometimes she called him the R word that made Mama mad when she heard it. DJ wasn't exactly sure what the R word meant but he knew it was what people said when they thought he was not good enough because he had Down Syndrome, so he didn't like hearing it either. But Mama said people who talked that way didn't know any better and they could learn from DJ that kids like him were actually just like any other kids, even if some things were a little harder for them.

Sometimes when he came home from school crying because another kid was mean to him, Mama held him and cuddled him and told him, "God made you just right," and he believed Mama because she knew him better than anybody.

Plopping a thumb securely in his mouth, DJ patted on the fire truck Daddy gave him for his birthday, then grabbed his favorite patched and faded teddy bear — he called it Taco — and climbed up on his bed for a cuddle. Taco was DJ's best friend and a good listener and he never said, "Take that thumb out of your mouth DJ DeSoto and speak up so I can understand you!"

"Daddy's hurt, Taco," DJ said sadly. "An' I can't go see him, 'cause no one will take me."

Taco just stared back at him with his two black eyes. He couldn't talk, of course, but sometimes DJ would talk for him so they could have a conversation. He held Taco up and pursed his lips to make his very best bear voice. "Then take yourself. You remember when Unca Johnny was in the hospital and Daddy took you to see him. You can find it."

"But I'm not s'pposed to cross the street by myself! That's the rule!"

He let Taco think for a minute before responding almost in a whisper. "But this is a 'mergency. Sometimes in a 'mergency rules are diff'rent."

He kissed his bear on the head, then jumped down from the bed and grabbed his Mickey Mouse backpack. He stuffed his favorite old blanky in the backpack, then got his camping whistle from his sock drawer and hung the lanyard around his neck. A whistle was important when you went walking because if you got in trouble you could blow on it and someone would find you. Uncle Johnny taught him that.

He could still hear the TV blaring from the living room when he stood at the top of the stairs. Franny wouldn't see him, because the living room was around a corner and down a couple of steps after you went down the stairs. He knew he could open the door real quiet and slip outside without her hearing, because she had the TV on real loud and Gus Pup wouldn't give him away because Gus Pup was in Heaven now.

Squeezing Taco close to his chest, DJ tiptoed down the stairs. He was super careful, holding tight to the rail with one hand. The stairs kind of scared him because he fell down them once and broke his arm, but he figured if Daddy could run into buildings on fire, he could be brave enough to go on the stairs by himself.

He turned the door handle real slow and eased the door open, then slipped outside and pulled it shut again behind him. Then he stood on the front stoop and thought for a minute, holding his hands out in front of him. He was pretty sure when Uncle Johnny was in the hospital and they visited him, after DJ got over his chicky pox, Daddy turned the car the way that went with the hand he used for coloring, so he strode down the driveway and turned left on the sidewalk, proud of himself for making a successful escape.

"DJ DeSoto, what do you think you're doin', young man?!" The voice made him a little happy and a little sad at the same time. Happy because he loved the person the voice went with, but sad because he knew he was busted. With a little sigh, he turned around and looked up into the kindly face of Mrs. Canfield, standing in the middle of her garden.

Mrs. Canfield was one of DJ's favorite people in the whole world. She lived next door and was plump and soft and good for snuggling, and she had a wrinkly brown face and dark eyes that sparkled when she saw him and ropy white hair that she wore up in a bun and she made the very best cookies in the entire world — even better than Mama's. Best of all, Mrs. Canfield never talked to DJ like he wasn't good enough or didn't matter. DJ didn't have a grandma because both of his were in Heaven, but he figured Mrs. Canfield was the next best thing. He gave her a sheepish grin.

"I'm goin' to th' hopsital," he said, trying to sound as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I'm goin' to see my Daddy."

Mrs. Canfield crossed her arms and frowned. "That's an awful long walk, even for a boy as big as you," she said after bein' real quiet for a moment. "I think you need a couple of cookies first, and maybe a glass of milk, to give you strength for the road."

DJ puckered up his forehead. He wanted to get to Daddy, but Mrs. Canfield's cookies were awful good and he sure wouldn't want to miss out. He thought hard, then gave a nod. He was real hungry. And Mrs. Canfield's house was one Mama didn't mind him visiting — she was safe. "OK," he said. "But just a few minutes. Daddy needs me."

"Come on in, then." And Mrs. Canfield reached down and grasped his small hand in her big one and walked him into her little blue house.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Winifred Canfield set a plate of cookies and a plastic cup full of milk in front of DJ. "Now, you eat that up." She slid into a chair across from him and took one cookie for herself. "Tell me, DJ, is your Mama home?"

"No," he mumbled. "Franny's there." Bless the child, if his mouth wasn't already crammed full of cookie, and a smear of chocolate now connected a couple of his freckles like one of those dot pictures her grandson liked. She handed him a napkin and he scrubbed at his face, but only managed to spread the chocolate around.

"Franny's watchin' out for you, then? Does she know you went out?"

He shook his head. "She's watchin' soaps… called me a mean word an' tol' me go play in my room till supper." He grabbed another cookie off the plate and took a bite.

Winnie felt her heart breaking in two at DJ's words. Miss Franny Davis sure was going to get a piece of her mind next chance she got! But that would wait for later. Her priority sat here across from her, with crumbs on his chin. "And so you decided you would go visit your Daddy instead?"

DJ nodded solemnly, his big green eyes gazing at her over his cup of milk. Winifred near melted at the sight. She loved this boy as if he were her own. She wrapped her fingers around his and gave a comforting squeeze. "DJ, does Franny call you mean words a lot?" She could see the hurt welling up in the little one's eyes as he nodded. He wasn't one for making up stories, and that Franny Davis had always been something of a female Eddie Haskell in her opinion, so she didn't hesitate to believe what DJ said — and she could imagine just what sort of words the Davis girl had used.

"I'm sorry she does that, DJ. She's wrong, you know. God made you with all the special gifts you need to help you do good things in this world. And I'll tell you, you are a lot smarter than Franny about lots of things, even though you're 7 and she's 15. I mean the real important things, like lovin' people an' takin' care of folks an' shinin' a bright light in a dark world."

She got up to carry his milk glass to the fridge and refill it, then brought it back to him. "Now you tell me somethin', DJ… if your Mama says it's ok, would you be willin' to come stay with this lonely ol' lady after school while your Daddy's laid up? I'm thinkin' I'd like some company and my own grandboy lives awful far away."

His eyes got real big when she asked that and he grinned. She smiled back, then handed him another napkin.

He wiped his face and swallowed the mouthful he'd just taken, then answered. "Yeah, I would like that lots. But…" And now he frowned again. "I gotta go see my Daddy first."

Winnie sighed internally. She had hoped her suggestion would be enough to make him forget that idea. "Well," she said, considering her words carefully. She needed to keep him here, but she didn't want to make him feel bad for what he'd done. Yes, he had broken the rules and taken a big risk with his little jaunt to Rampart, but he was doing it out of love and that should be recognized. His mama could talk to him about that later. "You have some more cookies and I'll be back in a minute — I think I hear ol' Cattywampus goin' on about somethin'. He's been mighty cantankerous lately. Now don't you sneak out that door without givin' me a hug goodbye, you hear?"

"I won't," he mumbled through another mouthful.

She hadn't really heard her old calico cat — she knew Cattywampus was sound asleep on the double wedding ring quilt she kept on the guest bed. But she didn't want to upset DJ with what she had to do. She went to her bedroom and pulled out the phone book from the shelf under her bedside table to look up the number for Rampart Hospital. Sure and certain, that's where JoAnne DeSoto could be found. She dialed the number, then waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello. This is Winifred Canfield. I am calling for JoAnne DeSoto — her husband Roy is a patient in the ICU…. I'm her neighbor. Her son is at my house at the moment. Thank you, yes… I can wait."

The call was transferred to the ICU and then a nurse asked her to hold and finally JoAnne's voice came over the wires.

"Hello, JoAnne. Winnie Canfield here. I was outside cleanin' out my garden beds when Mr. DJ comes struttin' by just as proud as you please… said he was headin' to the hospital to visit his Daddy. I brought him inside and fed him cookies instead. He's an awfully determined little feller — I could even see he was thinkin' of passin' up on those cookies to keep on goin'!"

She went on to tell DJ's mother what the boy had said about Franny and made her offer for DJ to come stay with her after school instead. "And JoAnne," she added at the end, "I really think he needs to come to the hospital now… if there's any way they'll let him visit his Daddy for a minute. I can bring him over on the bus and then bring him back home with me."

When they had made their plans, Winnie hung up the phone with a satisfied nod, then headed back to the kitchen. DJ had just finished the last cookie and was carrying the empty plate to the sink. She watched for a moment as he stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the faucet handle. "Hold on there," she said. "Let me get you something." She had a step stool in the pantry, and she set this by the sink. DJ grinned and climbed up, then turned on the water and rinsed the crumbs down the drain.

"You are a fine young man, DJ DeSoto," Winnie Canfield declared, and she wrapped him in a hug. "Now… you know the bus that stops around the corner?"

He nodded.

"Well, it stops right in front of Rampart Hospital, too. Doesn't take more'n 15 minutes to get there… but you'd be walkin' for hours if you tried goin' by foot. So I was thinkin', how about we go together? Then I can talk with your mama about our plan. We can stop at the store on the way home and buy the makin's for meatloaf an' mashed potatoes. We'll make enough to feed your mama too if she's home for supper. Sound like a good plan?"

DJ nodded eagerly and Winnie could see the hurt and sadness that had been in his eyes when she found him out on the sidewalk fade away completely. She liked those green eyes of his like this, dancing with joy. She grabbed her purse and took her young friend's hand in her own and the two of them headed out the door together.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

JoAnne was fuming when she hung up the phone. Not at Mrs. Canfield, of course — she was deeply thankful to the next-door neighbor for stopping DJ and calling her right away. No, she was fuming at Franny. She had always thought the fifteen-year-old was smart and respectful, and never, ever imagined that she would say such things to DJ. She knew her youngest son didn't really like having the girl come babysit; this week, she had attributed DJ's fussing to his missing his Daddy and just wanting things to be normal. She fumed at herself too — she really should have taken some time to sit down and talk with him about what had happened. But she had hardly been home, and she had felt she had to protect him from it, at least until she had a better idea what to expect. But that only made him worry more instead of less.

Well, first things first. She dialed her home phone number and waited until Franny picked up.

"Hello? DeSoto residence."

Ugh… usually Jo thought the girl's respectful tone was refreshing, but now it just sounded fake. How had she missed that?! She wanted to yell, but instead she forced herself to keep her cool. "Franny… this is Mrs. DeSoto. Would you please have DJ come to the phone?"

"Oh, he's upstairs playing in his room, ma'am."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes'm…" She sounded confused but didn't back down from her lie. "He went up right after lunch and I haven't heard a peep from him since. He had his Legos out when I checked on him a few minutes ago."

JoAnne rolled her eyes. She could feel her composure beginning to crumble. "Well, I need to talk with him. So please… go get him. Now."

"Yes'm." There was silence on the line for a minute before JoAnne heard Franny calling to DJ. Then she heard the fake cheerful voice harden. "This isn't funny, you little re — "

Jo didn't want to hear the rest of the girl's tirade, but she forced herself to listen. If she had been right there with Franny at that moment, she would have joyfully taken the girl over her knee and paddled her, so she supposed it was a good thing she was here at Rampart and couldn't actually do that.

Finally, Franny returned to the phone. "Umm… Mrs. DeSoto?"

"Yes, Franny?" JoAnne's tone was now frosty.

"Umm… he's hiding, and he won't come out. I called and called, and I looked in his room and he's not there."

"You're right. He's not there. In fact, you lied to me when you said you checked on him a few minutes ago, because he left almost an hour ago. He decided to come find me and visit his daddy, and you were too wrapped up in your television show to notice." By now, JoAnne had dropped all pretense of calm, though she tried to keep her voice down so she wouldn't draw attention to herself. "I don't blame him for wanting to leave, either, after hearing what you just called him! You should be ashamed of yourself! Yes, I heard exactly what you said. I hired you to sit because I was told you were responsible and good with kids, but now I know better. Lucky for you, DJ is safe with Mrs. Canfield and he will be staying with her for now. Your services are no longer required and I will be discussing this matter with your mother and father. Good-bye, Franny. Go home. Lock the door and drop the key through the mail slot."

"Uh… yes, ma'am, Mrs. DeSoto." Franny's voice sounded stricken. JoAnne really didn't care. She slammed the receiver down and whirled about to return to the waiting room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny's frown deepened as JoAnne told him and Nita what had happened with DJ's babysitter. "Dr. Brackett said he would talk with DJ before he goes in," she explained.

"Let me do it, Jo," Johnny pleaded. "This is my fault, after all. I should take care of it."

"And just how do you figure it's your fault, Johnny?" Jo protested with a wave of her hands.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "'Cause I was an idiot… if I hadn't messed up my hand and ended up in surgery, Nita would be with DJ now and there wouldn't be any problem." He stood up and began to pace the floor of the waiting room.

"And _I_ could have paid more attention to how DJ reacted when I hired Franny to sit," JoAnne countered. "He wouldn't say it right out, but I was too preoccupied to notice his behavior and talk with him. No, Johnny… this is my own fault."

"I don't think it matters who is to blame." Nita's soft interjection drew both Jo's and Johnny's attention. "Though neither one of you is… the babysitter is the one responsible. What matters is DJ. When will he be here, Jo?"

"Any minute now… if the bus isn't running late." She glanced toward the elevator, as if she expected it to open and deposit her son and Mrs. Canfield right then and there.

"Listen… you go on in and see how Roy's doin' and make sure they'll let DJ in to see him... I'll talk with the little guy and bring him in when he's ready." Johnny said.

"Where's Peter? Is he still in there?"

Johnny chuckled and rubbed at his neck. "Uh… no. He came out a few minutes ago, was just startin' to tell us how it went… You know Peter… lit up a cigarette right in front of that new 'No Smoking' sign." He chuckled. "Then along came Dixie and told him he couldn't smoke in here. He argued with her and she… um… told him where he could go… Then she offered to escort him there."

JoAnne laughed. "I would have liked to see that!"

"It was quite the encounter, that's for sure. Anyway… Dixie won… Newkirk's havin' his smoke outside." Johnny grinned and shook his head, then sobered. "Really, Jo… go be with Roy. I'll bring DJ."

"All right." Jo nodded. "Thanks, Johnny." She kissed him on the cheek, then headed past the nurse's desk toward Roy's room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

DJ and Mrs. Canfield arrived about ten minutes later. By that time, Johnny had abandoned the wheelchair for one of the regular waiting room chairs, with a promise to Nita he wouldn't argue about using the wheelchair when it was time to leave. "DJ's already upset enough," he had insisted. "He doesn't need to worry about me, too."

Of course, he couldn't hide his injured hand. DJ pulled away from Mrs. Canfield and ran to him, eyes wide with worry. "Unca Johnny! Your arm is hurted!" He climbed up in Johnny's lap, being extra careful not to jostle the arm in its sling, and Johnny hugged him with his good arm.

"It's not so bad," he said, shrugging it off. "How about you introduce me to your friend?" He nodded to Mrs. Canfield, who stood nearby watching her young charge. Her fondness for DJ was evident in her eyes, and that was enough to make Johnny like her immediately.

"Unca Johnny, this is Mrs. Canfield… Mrs. Canfield, this is Unca Johnny." He held up his teddy bear. "He gived me Taco lotsa years ago!"

Johnny held out his left hand, since he couldn't shake with the right at the moment. "John Gage, Mrs. Canfield… but feel free to call me Johnny. And this is my wife, Nita. Any friend of DJ's is a friend of ours," he said with a smile.

"Likewise, and you may call me Winnie." Mrs. Canfield set her purse on a chair and had a seat. "Is JoAnne in with Roy?"

"Yes, she is… she wants to talk with you after DJ has seen his daddy. But first… DJ, you and I need to talk a little bit."

DJ nodded solemnly. "My daddy got hurt bad, didn't he?"

"Yes. You see… your daddy was being very brave. He helped three children get out of a fire and because of him they are alive and safe. But he fell before he could get out and his leg got hurt so bad that Dr. Brackett couldn't fix it."

Big tears welled up in DJ's eyes. "Johnny, did my daddy go to Heaven like Gus Pup?"

 _Damn, but I'm makin' a mess of this!_ Johnny shook his head. "No, no… your daddy is alive, and you'll see him in a little bit. But you need to know that Dr. Brackett had to amputate his leg.

The little boy's forehead wrinkled. "What's… ampa-tate?"

"Well…" Johnny sighed. This was a lot harder than he had expected. "It means to cut off… the doctor had to cut off one of his legs."

"Oh…" DJ looked up at Johnny with sad eyes. "He's still my same daddy, right?"

"Yes, he's still your same daddy and he loves you just like always. That won't ever change. But DJ, he's really sad right now and he could use a lot of love from his little bear to help him feel better." Johnny smiled at the sight of a grin spreading across DJ's face from ear to ear.

"I'm real good at lovin' people!" the little boy crowed. "Mrs. Canfield says so. But…" He blinked, and Johnny could see tears threatening to fall. "...can I still hug him?"

"Mrs. Canfield is right… and yes, you can hug him. As a matter of fact, I think a great big DJ hug could be just what he needs right now." Johnny looked up to see Suzanne watching them from the nurse's station.

"Go ahead and take him in… but just for a few minutes," she said. "I talked to Dr. Brackett and he says it's OK."

Johnny held out his hand to his godson. "You ready to go, Little Bear?"

DJ nodded and slipped his small hand into Johnny's bigger one. "I'm ready, Unca Johnny."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

DJ peeked into his daddy's room and saw Mama sitting next to the bed. He slipped in, tugging his Uncle Johnny behind him. "Mama?"

She turned and held out her arms and DJ saw tears sparkling in her eyes. He let go of Johnny's hand and ran to hug her. "Mrs. Canfield brung me on a bus!"

"I know." Mama's voice was soft but sounded kinda stretched out like she had been worried. DJ peeked out from under her arms and saw that Daddy was sleeping.

Without waiting for permission, he climbed down from Mama's lap and scrambled up onto the bed and scooted up next to Daddy, the way he sometimes did when he woke up in the night after a scary dream. He was real careful, because he was a little scared of hurting Daddy more, but he snuggled in close and gave Daddy a kiss on the cheek. Daddy's eyes blinked open at that.

DJ patted a hand on Daddy's grizzly bear chin — Daddy didn't usually let his face get all prickly, but DJ liked it when he did. "Hi, Daddy. I missed you. So I 'cided to come see you an' Unca Johnny tol' me 'bout your leg an' I'm real sorry 'cause I know you're sad… but you're still my same daddy an' I love you an'... an'... I'm really glad you're not in Heaven like Gus Pup!"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy had been dreaming… over and over again, the moment when Peter placed the pistol in front of him had played out and each time he had considered whether maybe it was the best thing… maybe better for everyone. Each time, he got a little closer to reaching for the weapon. In fact, he had just settled his hand on the grip when he felt a kiss on his cheek. The dream fled and he opened his eyes in surprise to see his youngest son peering at him.

DJ had come late to talking, but he'd been making up for it ever since, daily proving wrong the doctor who predicted at his birth that he would never talk. Everyone in the room was silent after the torrent of words that poured out of DJ. JoAnne moved closer and started to tug the little boy out of the bed, but Roy shook his head and wrapped his good arm around the child. "Leave him," he grunted. Right now, the child's frank words were exactly what Roy needed to hear.

He stroked DJ's cheek and gazed into his green eyes and tried hard not to let his emotions spill out and scare the little boy who was such a blessing to him. "I'm real glad too, Son," he managed. "I'm real glad too."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Greetings from the I-70 corridor in eastern Colorado! Yes, I'm on another road trip, but I have had lots of time to work on Chapter 7 while the hubby was driving. This week and next are going to be pretty busy — I'm attending a writers conference and then we'll be visiting my mother-in-law, so I may not be able to get the next chapter written until after I return home at the end of next week. But I will be plotting and planning until then!**

 **I have to share about the awesome experience I had last Saturday. I had the opportunity to attend the grand opening of the LA County Fire Department Museum's new building, and Randolph Mantooth, Kevin Tighe, Mike Stoker, and Dennis Donnelly (director, and brother to Tim Donnelly, a.k.a. Chet . The Phantom) were all there to sign autographs! We stood in line for about five hours before finally getting in, but it was worth it. Best of all, my awesome anonymous beta reader was there too, and we got to meet in person! That absolutely made my day.**

 **Thank you, readers and reviewers! Your feedback means the world to me! Thanks as always to my beta-readers. Katbybee helped me with the depiction of the Hogan's Heroes characters, as I want them to be true to her stories. And both of them read multiple incarnations of this chapter until I got it just how I wanted it.**

 **Marbo, I was thinking of you when I gave a little more detail about that spat between Newkirk and Dixie! Thought you might enjoy it! Your Aunt Pat sounds like a lovely lady. I absolutely adore Winnie Canfield. I have a feeling she has lots of stories to tell, and someday I hope she'll share them with me.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 7**

 **Glossary (Choctaw - English)**

Hoke – This Choctaw word is an intensifier and can often be loosely translated with "really" or "a lot." I have seen many Choctaw writers use it to mean "OK," though (and some argue that it is the source of the English term OK), and that is how it is used in the first instance that you will see.

Ahattak – my husband

Chi hullo li – I love you.

Chitikchi – your wife

Satikchi – my wife

Chi hullo li hoke – I really love you _or_ I love you so much.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The men of 51's C Shift were out in the engine bay, polishing Big Red and the Squad when their attention was drawn to an official US Army staff car pulling up to the curb on 223rd St. A uniformed driver stepped out of the car and walked around to open the rear passenger door.

Matthew Carter just shook his head. "Well, I guess this means I don't need Estes to cover for me so I can pick Gramps up at the airport." He tossed his polishing cloth to Bowman. "Cap… he'll want to meet everyone. Mind if I invite him in?"

"Sure," Captain Mike Stoker was back after calling out sick the two previous shifts that week. The men had been glad to see him. Matthew was concerned, though… he hadn't thought Cap could get any quieter than he usually was, but somehow, he had managed it today. Matthew thought he could count the words the man had spoken all day on one hand… not counting, of course, on calls, when Stoker's command was as sure as ever.

Bowman's eyes just about bugged out of his head. "That's your grandfather?!"

By the time Colonel Andrew Carter stepped out of the car, his Air Force blues a contrast to the driver's service green Army uniform, his grandson was striding past the flagpole, a bemused smile on his face. "Gramps! I should have expected this." He stopped at the sidewalk, only then noticing that Bowman had followed him out of the engine bay and was standing ramrod straight next to him, his right hand raised to his forehead in a smart salute.

Granddad returned Bowman's salute. "At ease, young man," he said with a smile, then turned his attention to Matthew. "No 'Hi, Gramps, good to see you'?"

Matthew chuckled. He could see the humor sparking in the older man's eyes. "Hi, Colonel… good to see you," he echoed, using the title his grandfather's uniform demanded, even if the man didn't. He nodded toward Bowman. "This is my partner, Alex Bowman."

"Sergeant Alexander Bowman, Sir. Honored to meet you, Sir."

Matthew shook his head. The hero worship in Bowman's eyes was unmistakable. Not that he hadn't felt the same way… Gramps had always been a hero to him, but he was also just Gramps… quirky, whip-smart, fun-loving, and Matthew's biggest supporter. Oh… and the instigator behind a number of explosions Matthew remembered from his childhood… the 'enhanced' bottle rockets, the science lab out back of the house (he'd wondered why Oma insisted they build it at twice what Gramps considered 'a safe distance'), and several others Matthew had sworn never to mention to his mother.

Carter nodded, smiling. "The honor is mine. Perhaps you and my grandson could join me for dinner tomorrow evening, when you are off duty?"

"Yes, Sir. I'd like that, Sir."

"Would you like to see the station, Colonel?" Matthew asked. "I think Captain Stoker and the rest of the crew would like to meet you too."

"I've got time for the nickel tour. Sergeant, why don't you go back and let your Captain know we'll be in soon. I'd like to speak with Matthew alone for a moment."

"Yes Sir!"

As Bowman darted back into the engine bay, Andrew stepped up next to his grandson and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It really is good to see you, Takoja."

Matthew smiled at his grandfather's use of the Lakota term and at the love behind it. He had made an effort to learn the language, eager to see it preserved, but he didn't have Gramps' skill with it. "Likewise, Colonel. But you were going to let me know when I could pick you up at LAX. Estes is expecting to cover for me for a few hours. He'll be here any minute."

The Colonel shrugged. "I made other arrangements. If Estes will be disappointed, though, perhaps you would like to go with me to the hospital?"

Matthew considered it. He hadn't visited Captain DeSoto yet, though of course he'd been at Rampart on runs numerous times throughout the week. He had kept up-to-date on the man's progress and was glad to hear he had finally emerged from his coma. He couldn't help thinking that somehow, he could have done something to prevent the accident… to keep his granddad's good friend safe. He kept going over and over the incident in his mind, trying to figure out how he could have changed the outcome.

"There was nothing you could have done, Matthew… and it wasn't your fault."

Gramps' softly spoken words pierced through Matthew's thoughts. The man had always had an uncanny way of knowing what he was thinking before he ever spoke it. He nodded his head. "I… I know, Colonel. It's just… I can't stop wondering about it."

"I understand… I've been there myself a few times. But you can't dwell on it. If you spend too much time thinking about what you _could_ have done, you may well miss what you _should_ do now."

Matthew absorbed his grandfather's wisdom silently as they walked together up the drive to the engine bay, where they found the rest of the crew standing in formation. Matthew took his place in the line, and pride surged within him as Cap led them in saluting his lifelong hero. He wondered if all of a sudden he had the same hero-worship glow in his own eyes that Bowman did a few minutes ago.

The Colonel returned the salute, then shook hands with Cap. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Stoker. My grandson speaks highly of you."

"Thank you, Colonel." Matthew was relieved when Cap didn't say anything more… as close as he was to the guys, there would definitely be teasing if Cap gave him a glowing assessment in front of them. In fact, he figured about ten to one odds that he could already expect to find his bed short-sheeted or floured tonight, just to keep him humble.

He had almost decided to take Gramps up on the suggestion of going to the hospital when the tones sounded, calling the paramedics out for a child who had fallen from the monkey-bars at a nearby playground. Estes hadn't arrived yet, so Carter climbed into the Squad and took the address slip from Cap. "I'll see you at the hospital, Colonel!" he called as Bowman drove them out of the engine bay.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel Brackett — along with the rest of Rampart Emergency — had been busy with the victims of a freeway pileup and so it was several hours before he could get back upstairs to check on Roy after getting word that he was awake and aware of his injury. He had hoped to be there when that happened… had hoped Dr. Richardson could be there. But Richardson had gone home sick and wouldn't be in for a couple days.

Normally, Kel would have passed the primary care of a patient over to another doctor once that patient moved out of his department, but Roy DeSoto was someone special and Kel wasn't about to let Thurman or Geary get their claws in him. Oh, he would admit they were good doctors… excellent doctors even. But they were too damned young and they didn't appreciate the paramedic program or demonstrate the proper respect for its pioneers. No, Kel had made very clear to them both, Roy was _his_ patient and would remain so, no matter where in the hospital he resided.

At last able to break away and deeming himself in need of some exercise, he jogged up the two flights of stairs to the ICU. Pending his examination, he hoped Roy would be ready to move to a regular room. It would be better for him all the way around.

When he stepped through the door from the stairwell, he was greeted by a concerned nurse. "Dr. Brackett!" Suzanne said. "We let the little boy see his daddy, as you instructed… but now he doesn't want to leave and Captain DeSoto won't let anyone take him out."

Brackett grinned. "Sounds like a positive development to me… That little boy is probably the best medicine DeSoto could get at the moment. How are his vitals?"

"Well, when I checked them about five minutes ago, they were improved." Suzanne gave him the details.

Kel nodded approvingly. "Like I said… best medicine he could have. In fact, I would prescribe a daily dose of DJ DeSoto to just about anyone in this hospital if I could. That boy brightens up any room he walks —" He noticed Suzanne's eyes widen and turned to see what she was looking at. To his surprise, an Air Force colonel in uniform stood there. The man had arrived so quietly, Kel hadn't even noticed him.

"I like the way you think, Doctor. I am Colonel Andrew Carter, US Air Force. Perhaps you're expecting me? I've come to see Roy DeSoto."

A wide grin broke across Kel's features. "Dr. Kel Brackett. Good to meet you, Colonel. Yes, JoAnne told me some of Roy's friends from the Service would be stopping in. Heh... Nurse Dixie McCall has already told me about one of them… he… um… disagreed with her rather vociferously about the 'no smoking' rule."

The Colonel shook his head and chuckled. "That sounds like Newkirk. Might I ask who won that battle?"

"Well, your man is outside with his cigarette and may well be nursing a sore ear. Dixie isn't exactly known for taking any guff."

Colonel Carter guffawed this time. "Good for her! But I hope she realizes… this was just a skirmish. Peter isn't one to give up easily. And now… would you please direct me to Roy's room?"

"Of course. I was just on the way to examine him, but I can give you a moment first. Follow me." Kel scanned the waiting area as they walked past, but only an elderly black woman sat there just now, busy at her knitting. Kel didn't recognize her and figured she must be there for one of Thurman's or Geary's patients, so he simply nodded politely when she looked up, and then walked on by.

In Roy's room, they found JoAnne watching quietly while DJ nestled at his Daddy's side. A ragged one-eyed teddy bear sat on Roy's shoulder. Roy looked up as they entered. Kel appraised him quickly, noting that his color was good and his eyes alert; his mood was subdued, but he seemed relaxed. "Hello, Roy."

"Hey, Doc. Hey, Carter."

"Found your friend out in the waiting room." Kel nodded to the Colonel. "Thought I should bring him in to say hello. Just briefly, though… I have a feeling you're ready for a change of scenery… Dixie's busy making sure there's a room ready for you downstairs as we speak."

"Thanks, Doc. That'll be good."

"All right, then… I'll step outside and give you a few minutes. Then I'll come back and give you the once over before the orderlies come to take you downstairs."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

As Kel moved past the Colonel toward the door, Carter pulled up a chair and had a seat. "Roy… I'm glad to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were different. I'm sorry, Roy."

"I do too," Roy admitted. "But… leastways I'm alive. Newkirk gave me a lot to think about… apparently… the same way you got him thinkin' when it happened to him." Though Roy refrained from elaborating, the shadow that passed over his face was enough to tell Andrew exactly what had taken place in his friend's conversation with Newkirk. The shadow passed quickly, though, as Roy glanced at his son. "Colonel… you've met Jo… well, this is our youngest, Daniel Jesse… we call him DJ."

DJ beamed and grabbed his teddy bear. "Hi. This is Taco!"

Carter leaned forward to shake the bear's paw. "Greetings, Taco. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Then he extended the hand to DJ, who squeezed it. "Pleased to meet you as well, young man." The boy's bright eyes and innocent smile reminded him of his own grandchildren when they were young. He glanced to JoAnne and nodded. "Jo… good to see you again, too. I'd best go out and let Dr. Brackett see Roy… DJ, would you like to go to the vending machine with me? We could get something for you and something for your Daddy to enjoy as soon as the doc says he can."

DJ looked from Carter to his Daddy. Roy gave him a little nod and a pat on the knee. "Go on, Son. You know what I like best."

The boy giggled. "You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!" he crowed as he scrambled down from the bed, and all the grown ups laughed.

"Reese's Peanut Butter Cups it is, then," the Colonel said. Hand in hand, he and the young DeSoto boy walked out to find the vending machine.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Peter Newkirk inhaled a lungful of smoke as he stood outside, leaning his back up against the outer wall of Rampart Hospital, watching the ambulances come and go. He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and grumbled to himself. "Daft ol' bird… tellin' me off like that." She had done more than tell him off… when he wouldn't put out the cigarette, she had snatched it from his hand faster 'n Carter ever did and snuffed it out, then taken him by the ear and dragged him to the elevator as if he were an errant schoolboy. Newkirk winced at the thought of Dixie McCall in a past life, wielding a ruler and wearing a nun's wimple, rapping some hapless little feller on the palm. Oh yes, he'd felt that sting more than once in his childhood! And the ear… well, the nurse had kept a firm grip till she pushed him out the door! _"This_ is the smoking section, Mr. Newkirk!" she'd declared.

He rubbed at his ear and scowled. It still smarted like the dickens! "I'll show you where the smoking section is, Nurse McCall." After one last drag, he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. "It's damn well wherever I want it to be." With that, he headed back toward the door, steeling himself once more for battle.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

By four o'clock that afternoon, Roy had been settled in a semi-private room on the second floor. The second bed in the room was unoccupied for now — well at least, by another patient; at the moment, DJ was using it for a nap — so Roy had the room to himself, and Dixie had promised that unless things got very busy, she would see that it stayed that way.

Roy's conscience had gnawed at him as he watched the little boy sleep. He needed to talk with Johnny… apologize to him. Apparently, Johnny had brought DJ to his room upstairs, but then had slipped away before Roy was awake enough to look for him. He hadn't come back before Roy was moved.

Carter and Newkirk were both in the room. Roy was grateful they were talking together, catching up, talking with JoAnne, and leaving him to himself for the time being. They seemed to understand instinctively that he needed time to absorb everything, to wrap his mind around how his life had changed. And even though he was not keen on the memories their presence brought back, he was glad they were there for him. He knew Carter the best of the two, as they had been prisoners together in Camp 208, but Newkirk had been a vital part of the team that saved his life… saved all the prisoners in the camp, actually. The shared experience had formed a brotherhood that would go with him to his grave.

And Taffy… a ghost of a smile flitted across Roy's lips as he thought of the scrappy Welshman… a man of deep compassion, a man of prayer, and definitely a man you'd want on your side in any fight. Carter said Taffy was due in any time to LAX. He'd boarded a flight in Paris a couple days ago, with layovers in New York and Chicago, just because he'd heard one of his boys was hurt.

Back when they had first met, Roy hadn't particularly appreciated Taffy. The chaplain represented a faith that a younger Roy had been anxious to prove he didn't need. Coming out of Camp 208, Roy had moved beyond the desire simply to be his own man — he had been angry, convinced he wanted no part of a God who would stick him in the middle of that waking nightmare, who allowed such suffering and cruelty. Taffy hadn't pushed or condemned, but he had held firm and seemed convinced from their first meeting that one day, Roy would come around. "You have a heart for the hurting, Roy," he'd said. "And the kind of compassion that puts the needs of others ahead of yourself. You aren't as far away from God as you think you are." Taffy had gotten Roy to promise that if he ever did change his mind, he'd be the first to know; when it happened, the first thing Roy had done was call Taffy to tell him about it.* And then he'd learned that Taffy had never stopped praying for him all those years. That revelation had just about brought him to his knees.

And now? Well, now he wasn't sure. His faith was wavering. He felt as if he were precariously balanced on a precipice and falling over would be way too easy. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on his wife… his brothers-in-arms… his son. They were his anchors. They would keep him from falling, if he could just hold on tight enough. And if he couldn't? Well… he knew they would be holding on too. So would Taffy… Chris and Megan… Johnny and their old 51's family and his men at 36's… and apparently even Winnie Canfield, the old lady who lived next door and had proven herself a good friend today with the care she took of DJ. Roy hadn't gotten the whole story out of Jo yet, but he had thanked Winnie for coming and for bringing his youngest child.

Right now, his head was throbbing… his body still in need of rest… but he felt a little better than he had when he'd first understood what had happened. He rested back against his pillows. "Thanks for comin', guys," he mumbled, his eyes drooping. "I need to sleep a while. Find Johnny… tell 'im… I wanna talk —" But before he could finish, he drifted off to sleep.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny sat in the cafeteria across from Nita. His burger and fries lay untouched on the plate in front of him. "Maybe we should just go home… come back and see Roy tomorrow," he said with a sigh.

"Is that what you want to do?" Nita asked.

He frowned and thought for a moment. "No," he finally admitted. "It's just… the look in his eyes, Nita."

He pushed the plate away, but Nita just pushed it back. "You need to eat, Nashoba."

"Hoke, hoke." He picked up the burger and took a couple of bites to appease her, but he really didn't have much of an appetite just now. "I don't know how to help him through this, Nita. He was so… hurt and angry and… empty… when I told him."

"In his place, wouldn't you be?" Nita sank her fingernails into her orange and pulled away the peel.

Johnny studiously avoided her gaze, settling his eyes on his injured hand instead. "Yeah… I suppose I would."

She reached out and wrapped her warm fingers around his good hand. "Nashoba, look at me, please."

He knew if he looked up at her she would see his eyes and she would know, but dammit… he could never say no to this woman… not even back when they were kids. And so he looked up, allowed his eyes to meet her gaze. He wasn't a man readily given to tears, but he could feel them gathering, and he blinked hard to stave them off.

"There is something you are not telling me, Ahattak. I should have seen it sooner… Your eyes… they are also filled with hurt and anger." She reached to cup his cheek in her hand. "Talk to me, my love."

And his reserve crumbled. He told her what Dr. Valdez had said… at least the parts he could remember. "It's just such a stupid thing, Nita, and it's my own damn fault. I am such an idiot!"

Her eyes narrowed. She had never approved of such language, and he figured he was lucky she didn't have a bar of soap at hand or she might have threatened him with it. But she didn't say anything about it. She reached to brush a hand across his face, and only then did he realize that one of the tears had escaped and coursed its way down his cheek.

"Nashoba," she said, her warm hazel eyes holding his gaze captive, her tone firm but filled with love. "Chi hullo li. We will talk with Dr. Brackett or Dr. Early. You will work hard at whatever therapy they give you. And we will trust Chihowa to take care of the rest… just as we will trust Him with Roy."

Johnny swallowed hard and nodded. "I just… don't want to disappoint you, Nita."

He saw tears flood her eyes at that. "Nashoba, you could never disappoint me… not as long as you remain the kind, caring, compassionate man I know you to be. I am blessed to be chitikchi and our children are blessed to have you for Inki."

Johnny didn't care who might be watching. He pulled his wife into his lap and wrapped his good arm around her and kissed her, then whispered in her ear, "Chi hullo li, Satikchi. Chi hullo li hoke."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Upstairs, Johnny and Nita found Carter and Newkirk; the pair had moved to the waiting area and were talking there. They had first met the two men in France during their honeymoon. Just a scant two weeks after they had arrived, they had been surprised to come down after a call from the front desk to find Roy and Jo waiting for them in the lobby of their hotel. Apparently, Taffy had planned a reunion in Paris and their invitation — complete with two plane tickets — had arrived the very day Johnny and Nita had boarded their flight. Naturally, the group had widened its circle just a bit more to embrace Johnny and Nita as well. Though he had not been through Nam, his work as a paramedic meant he had seen plenty of trauma and suffering and could understand at least somewhat the darkness that haunted his friend.

Carter's eyes widened at the sight of Johnny in the wheelchair Nita still insisted he use… she was determined that he obey Rampart law to the letter! "I'm fine, Colonel," he growled. "Just ridin' in this thing because apparently I have to _leave_ the hospital to get out of it."

Newkirk grimaced as he drew a cigarette from the case in his pocket. "I know just how ya feel, mate." He struck a match and lit up.

"Peter," Nita said quietly, her voice as soft as melted butter. "Please… I know you quarreled with Dixie over this, and I do not wish to cause further strife. But for the sake of the children I bear… I must ask that you not smoke around me."

Newkirk's jaw dropped, and he snuffed out the cigarette immediately. "Now that's a real lady ya married there, mate," he said to Johnny, who stood by grinning. "Nothin' like that ol' harridan."

Johnny stifled a laugh. "Now, I won't tell Dixie you called her that Newkirk, or you're liable to end up in a hospital bed yourself."

The Englishman snorted. "I ain't afraid of that ol' —" He stopped suddenly and turned back to Nita. "Nita, love… did ya say children?! Yer havin' —"

"Twins!" Johnny's grin now stretched from ear to ear. "Due in February."

Newkirk nodded his approval, then wrinkled his nose. "And ya think my smokin' could really harm 'em?"

"My mother was a midwife on our reservation," Nita explained. "She brought many children into the world, and over the years, she saw that the newborns whose fathers smoked suffered the same maladies as those whose mothers smoked, even if the mother didn't. She had no means of making a proper study, and few would listen to her, but she would not allow my father to smoke in our home. Now the surgeon general is saying many of the things she often told me.** Perhaps an occasional exposure would not harm them, but you understand that I do not wish to take chances, don't you?"

Johnny watched Newkirk's mouth twist as he considered the information. Then the Englishman just shook his head and smirked as he placed the unsmoked cigarette back in his case.

"Johnny, lad, seems to me she's got ya well trained a'ready. I'd be careful around this one, I would." From the sparkle in his eyes, Johnny could tell Newkirk was just teasing.

"Well, Newkirk…" Johnny wrapped his good arm around Nita's waist. "I'll be the first to tell anyone, Nita's training has made me a better man."

Nita beamed and leaned down to kiss him on the head, but he pulled her into his lap and pressed his lips to hers instead.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Carter had watched silently as the entire scene unfolded, mouth agape and arms folded across his chest, but now he just rolled his eyes and touched two fingers to his forehead in a brief salute to Nita. "You know," he said, "my father rarely said no to my mother, though she respected his words when he spoke. A wise man knows when to listen to a wise woman." He tipped his head. "And a really wise man knows arguing with any woman is completely pointless." He grinned at Newkirk, having enjoyed his friend's skirmishes with the head nurse over the hospital's smoking policy. He also was fully aware that Peter had no intention of backing down… and he imagined Dixie didn't either. But he would say no more on the matter — he had a message to deliver. "Johnny, we were actually about to go looking for you. Roy was tired, but he asked us to find you and send you in… he wants to talk with you."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny sat outside Roy's door. He needed a moment to steady himself. In spite of his joking with Newkirk, he had just about persuaded Nita not to insist on the wheelchair just to get from the waiting area to the room, but Nurse Houghton had happened by just as he was getting up and had shot him the evil eye. At that point, he raised his hands… well, the one that wasn't resting in a sling, anyway… in surrender and sat back while Nita push him to room 207.

He took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly before telling his wife, "All right… I'm ready." And so she wheeled him in.

Roy was asleep and JoAnne was lying down with DJ cuddled up next to her. The pair were talking quietly, but then DJ turned toward the door and saw his favorite uncle… "Unca Johnny!" Still clutching Taco, he squirmed out of his mother's grasp and scrambled down from the bed. "We're bein' quiet so Daddy can sleep."

Johnny chuckled. The boy's statement could probably be heard out the door and down the hall at the nurse's station. "Whisper voice, DJ!" he reminded gently.

"Sorry." DJ grinned ruefully as he climbed up in his godfather's lap.

Nita parked Johnny next to Roy's bed and gave him a kiss. "I'll come back in a while," she whispered.

As she was leaving, Roy blinked his eyes open. He looked at Johnny for a long moment, then focused on DJ. "Hey, Son… you're lookin' half-starved there. Why don't you see if Mama will take you to the cafeteria to get something to eat? They have pretty good french fries."

DJ sat up straight in Johnny's lap. "That's my fav'rite!" But then he frowned. "You OK if I go, Daddy?"

"Yeah, I'm OK, Buddy." He smiled, but Johnny thought it looked forced. "Uncle Johnny'll keep me company."

"OK." DJ hopped down and went to his Mama, who was already gathering up her purse. "I want french fries, Mama!"

Jo laughed. "All right… but you have to eat something healthy too."

"I will," DJ promised. He took his mama's hand and walked to the door, but then pulled free and ran back to his Daddy. He placed Taco back on the bed. "Taco's good med'cine," he said. "He's stayin' here." Then he ran back to JoAnne and they slipped from the room.

Johnny smiled. "Good little guy you've got there, Roy… but you already know that."

"Yeah, I do. Can't imagine life without him." Roy's gaze had followed his wife and child from the room, but now he turned his eyes to Johnny. He pointed to the Band-Aid on his forehead. "Sorry about that. I was outta line."

Johnny grinned. "It's all right. It'll heal up soon enough… and if it scars, it'll just enhance my rugged good looks."

Roy laughed outright at that, but soon got serious again. "Are you really washed up too?"

"I don't know for sure. I was tellin' Nita about it and realized… I don't even remember half of what the surgeon said. Nita says I'll do what he says to do and trust God with the rest." He shrugged. "Guess that's the best I can do."

"Yeah… guess so." Roy stared up at the ceiling, and Johnny knew he was struggling. His voice wavered a little on his next words. "You told me a little… of what happened. But why was I even in that building? I… need to know. Are… are my men all right?"

"Stoker's men, and yeah, they're all right. You were subbing for him… it was his kids' birthday. Got called out to an arson fire. Chief Stanley sent you in to help clear the building — there were a number of people unaccounted for." Johnny shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been there when the call went south, but he'd heard it told in full detail. Now he had to figure out how to balance Roy's need for information against his need for some distance from the trauma. "Marco — he was subbin' too — was in there with you. You handed a kid off to him, and then you went back… he thought there was someone else callin' for help. Before long, out you came with two more kids. You passed them through a window to Carter and Bowman and that's when the floor went. Bowman tried to catch you, but he couldn't do that and hold the kid… and… well… he did what he had to do. Stanley called me at home… called Mike and Chet too. And we all came out to look for you. You… uh… already know the rest."

"And your hand? You really hurt it fallin' off your horse?"

Roy's frank gaze sent a pang of guilt through Johnny. He had never been one to dissemble and he figured it was better to be honest now. So he told Roy the whole story, carefully choosing his words and emphasizing his own fault, both in removing his gloves to dig and in climbing up on his horse against doctor's orders. "And that is how I ended up in surgery yesterday afternoon. I was discharged this morning but haven't left yet."

"Ah, so that explains the wheels. Guess I'd better get used to those myself." Roy's wry observation just about broke Johnny's heart.

"Listen to me, Roy," he said fiercely. "We are going to get you through this. You don't have to deal with it alone… and you are not gonna end up stuck in a chair. If Newkirk can do it, why can't you?! Hell… when I first met him, I thought you were puttin' me on about his leg!" He ran a hand through his hair stopping at the back of his neck. Exploding at Roy wasn't the answer, and he forced himself to a calmer tone. "I'm sorry… I know this stinks. I don't blame you for feelin' hurt or sad or bein' mad as hell. But you've gotta remember that we're all here for you, Roy, and that is never gonna change..." He chuckled softly. "Doesn't matter what you throw at me."

Roy gave a slow nod. "I know." He was quiet for a moment before turning to look at Johnny. "Hey… would you mind stickin' around tonight… that is, if Nita's OK with it? Jo needs to take DJ home soon… I guess Mrs. Canfield's makin' 'em dinner… and I don't want her to have to come back tonight. But… I don't really want to be alone just now."

Johnny thought about it for a moment. "I don't think Nita will mind… as long as it's OK for her to stay with Jo and the kids. I should probably clear it with Dixie, but I can't imagine she'd say no."

"Thanks, Johnny. You're a good friend," Roy said, and he reached for the TV remote on the swivel table. "Let's see what's on… I could use something mind-numbing right about now."

For the next half-hour, the two friends watched television together. Johnny didn't mind that Roy surfed through the channels, not really settling on any one show… a PBS documentary, a couple of comedies, a tennis match… or that he didn't care to talk much. He figured they could talk again when Roy was ready. For now, he just needed time and patience and a whole lot of love.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 ***To learn more about the conversation with Taffy that Roy is remembering, read my story** _ **Christmas Eve Gift.**_ **This one-shot also gives some background on Roy's backstory, mostly from JoAnne's point of view.**

 ****Surgeon General C. Everett Koop released a** _ **Report on Smoking and Health**_ **in** **1982, the official beginning of his anti-smoking campaign. The dangers of second-hand smoke were not really highlighted until 1986, but I thought that Nita's mother, a midwife, might have seen for herself the effects of parental smoking on the babies she delivered, even if she lacked the resources to make a real scientific study of the matter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I wrote most of this chapter while driving from California to Missouri (and back). It was a wonderful and exhausting journey, the highlight of which was the writers conference in St. Louis. I met lots of my writer friends in person, enjoyed excellent teaching at several different class sessions, and even took part in an epic Nerf War! Quite an accomplishment for an introvert like me! Most of all, I appreciated the affirmation I received. I went in there feeling like something of a pretender among all the "real" writers, and found welcome and acceptance and encouragement that I am a "real" writer too, that this is what I was meant to do.**

 **Thank you as always to my wonderful readers, especially my beta-readers. Piscean6724, you outed yourself in a review, so you are no longer anonymous… and of course I've always thanked katbybee by name! Both of you ladies have become dear friends to me over the years and I thank God for you.**

 **Marbo, reading your reviews is always a delight! I think you'll find in this chapter that Johnny still has his moments when maturity escapes him (quite to Kel Brackett's consternation). But Nita has been very good for him.**

 **Without further ado, here is Chapter 8! And Chapter 9 is waiting in the wings and almost ready to go!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Chapter 8**

 _Roy shivered, even though the weather was hot and muggy. He sat slumped in the metal cage where he'd been kept since his capture. Days and nights of misery had blended into one another until he wasn't sure how much time had passed. Was it two weeks… three? Or maybe a couple of months? All he knew was, winter had not come yet. At first, he had tried to keep track of the days, scratching tally marks on a bar of his prison every time he watched a sunrise, but eventually he had lost count. Instead of trying to figure out how many days, he kept himself sane by closing his eyes and imagining home and JoAnne and the wonderful future they had planned._

 _At least it wasn't raining now. When it did, the mud seeped into his small prison. Even now, his uniform was caked in it. The cage wasn't tall enough for him to stand or stretch or even sit upright, nor was it long enough for him to lie down. His captors had designed the contraption for maximum discomfort. One Viet Cong guard in particular enjoyed tormenting the men in the cages. Roy didn't know his name, but called him Jabber. He had a long, sharpened stick and would poke it through the bars of the cage over and over again until Roy couldn't help crying out in pain. Only then would the man slide a small bowl of rice through a slot in the side of the cage, just enough to keep Roy alive, but never enough to fill his stomach. The rice always tasted of mud._

 _Roy kept a constant watch on the grounds outside his cage for his chief tormentor, so he could steel himself before the daily abuse began. This time, though, when the man appeared, he did not carry a bowl of rice and he did not carry the pointed stick. Instead, he carried a set of keys. Roy watched as he opened up the two cages before his and ordered the men to crawl out. They moved slowly, as if they'd almost forgotten how. Neither one was able to stand on his own. Both had been here when Roy arrived, already emaciated and empty-eyed. Roy didn't know their names. One was Vietnamese, the other looked like maybe he was an American, but it was hard to tell. Their ragged uniforms had long ago lost all identifying marks and faded to a dismal gray. The guard proceeded, taking a few steps before stopping in front of Roy's cage. He leered in through the bars before twisting the key in the lock and barking an order. Roy crab-walked out of the cage. Impatient now, the guard grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. He wasn't sure how he kept his balance. His legs felt like that red Jello Mom liked to make for Thanksgiving. Roy closed his eyes and laughed at the image of it dancing on his spoon but grew silent suddenly when the guard shook him roughly. He snapped his eyes open and focused on the ground. If he met the guard's eyes, that would guarantee him a beating._

 _A second guard emerged from the edge of the prison yard and Roy watched his feet as he traipsed across the distance from the arched gateway to where his comrade stood with the three prisoners. He barked an order and Roy looked up, carefully avoiding eye contact. The second guard carried a bucket, a dipper, and a large empty glass. Roy stared… entranced by the bucket, which he surmised must be full of water. He received less than half a dipperful twice a day, and thirst had become a constant companion. The thought of a full glass of water was as beautiful to him now as the promise of a feast. He watched wide-eyed as the guard filled the glass from the dipper and then reached to hand it to Roy, encouraging him to take it._

 _This water looked clean and fresh, unlike the dirty, foul-tasting water he had grown accustomed to in the camp. He reached to take it, bowing as he did so. "Cảm ơn bạn," he murmured. "Thank you." But just before the glass reached his mouth, a shot rang out and he flinched. The glass shattered in his hand, the water spilled, wasted, to the ground, soaking his bare feet instead of wetting his parched lips. He fell to the ground in shock, not even noticing the glass splinters that embedded themselves in his hands and knees._

"Roy! Wake up, Roy!"

As his eyes flew open, Roy pulled away from the fingers that had wrapped themselves around his wrist and sat up, gasping for breath. It took a moment to orient himself, but when he did, he was never so grateful to meet Johnny's worried gaze. He grasped his friend's hand, clinging to it as if to a life preserver. Gradually, his breathing slowed and the dark memories faded into his present reality. "Sorry," he muttered. "Bad dream."

"I'll say!" Johnny sat back but didn't pull his hand free. "Want to tell me about it, Pally?"

"No." Roy didn't mean to say it so forcefully. Really, he couldn't remember the dream all that clearly… but he had been trying to forget the event he knew triggered it for the last twenty years.

"Were you remembering the collapse?"

Roy should have known Johnny would not be put off so easily. "No," he repeated. He immediately regretted the way he spit out the word, but Johnny took it in stride. "I'm sorry, Junior. It's just… not something I can talk about. At least… not with you. You weren't… there. Maybe Carter… or… Anton."

"Nam?" Johnny asked. His eyes flicked away from Roy for a moment, then settled on him again, and Roy knew that he'd hurt his friend by refusing to talk. He also knew that Johnny would never admit it, never complain about it. At least, not till Roy was back home and well on the road to recovery.

"Yeah, Nam." Roy grasped the bedrail and shifted his weight, trying to get at least somewhat comfortable. His balance was off, and to top it all off, his leg — the one that wasn't there anymore — hurt like crazy. "Talk to me, Junior… something good. I'd rather not sleep anymore just now."

"Well, you know me when it comes to talkin'," Johnny quipped, his slender fingers moving to his chest. "Never at a loss for words, that's me!" He pulled out his wallet with his good hand and used his thumb to flip it open before setting it on the swivel table. Then he carefully slid a finger in and removed a small square of paper… or was it a photograph?… and passed it over to Roy. "Take a look at that. Tell me what you see!"

Roy stared for a moment before he figured out what he was looking at. "Is that the baby?!" He held the image closer and scrutinized it carefully. "Wait a minute… that's two babies?!"

"Yep. Twins. Dixie surprised Nita with one of those new-fangled ultrasounds." Johnny took the picture back. "Now, you know Nita's church doesn't have godparents, but if they did, we'd be asking you and Jo. Instead… we hope you'll be pleased if we name them in your honor. Right now we're thinkin' Royal James and Christopher Joe if they're both boys… we're still workin' on girls' names… but Emily JoAnne would be one of 'em."

A knock sounded at the door, and Carter stuck his head in. "Mind if we come in and say goodnight?"

"C'mon in, Colonel… Newkirk," Roy said. "Sorry… I guess I've been pretty lousy company."

"I'd say you're entitled." Carter shrugged. "We're just glad you pulled through, Roy."

Newkirk stepped to his bedside. "Listen, mate. Ya don't hafta pretend anythin' fer us. Whatever ye're feelin', whatever ya hafta say or do ta get through… we're here. You'll have ups an' downs… a real roller-coaster. But none of it is goin' ta scare us away." He gripped Roy's arm and gave it a firm squeeze. "We're 'eadin' over to th' 'otel for some shuteye, but we'll see ya t'morrow."

Roy nodded. Any other time, he would have insisted they stay at his house, but he couldn't do that to JoAnne… she didn't need to feel compelled to keep the house spotless and spend her days with him at the hospital. "Thanks… both of you."

As Carter and Newkirk moved to the door and out into the hall, Roy looked over at Johnny, who was sitting there staring at the ultrasound, a wide grin spread across his features. "Twins… wow. That's fantastic, Johnny. And the names… well… I'm humbled. Thank you."

Johnny set his wallet and the ultrasound on the swivel table. "Ya know, Roy… I've been thinkin'... you need ta get outta this bed. How about we go on a little field trip?"

Roy shook his head. "Are you crazy?"

Johnny chuckled. "I'm a bonafide nut. You said so yourself."

"You're never going to forget that, are you?" Roy asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Nope. And I mean it." And Roy knew from the look in Johnny's eyes that he was about to go on a field trip, like it or not. "Look… you're out of danger, you're not on the oxygen anymore… and we can tote that IV stand with us. And just so happens, I've got a chariot for you right here." He patted the arm of his wheelchair. "C'mon Roy… when have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Shall I count the ways?" But scoff as he might, Roy didn't plan on putting up much of a fight. For one thing, he wanted a change of scenery. He'd only been in this room for a few hours, but he hated being in the hospital. And he had a hunch that one of Johnny's zany stunts could be precisely what he needed just about now. "Fine… but how do you plan to push the chair with that damaged wing of yours?"

"You just let me worry about that." Johnny stood up and lowered the bedrail. Roy could practically see the wheels turning as he considered the situation. He winced when Johnny pulled his injured hand out of the sling, but he didn't say anything — it wouldn't have done any good, anyway. "All right," Johnny finally said, "let me help you pivot around first. Careful — you're going to have to figure out your balance again."

Roy didn't look when his friend pulled the covers away. He didn't want to see that bandaged stump again. Eventually he would have to get used to it, he supposed, but right now… the very thought of it made his stomach turn. _What am I doing?_ he thought. _He really is crazy!_ But all he said was, "Don't mess up your hand even more."

"Not gonna use my hand," Johnny assured him. "All right… I'm gonna slide my arms under your armpits and then lift and turn you, and finally set you down in the chair. Sound good?"

"Sounds like Brackett is going to kill you." But Roy submitted and a few minutes later he was sitting in the chair that Johnny had abandoned, and Johnny was wheeling the IV pole over so he could grasp it in his right hand and move it along with them.

As a final touch, Johnny removed the blanket from the bed, folded it, and then draped it over Roy's lap. "Thanks," Roy said softly. He was glad to have the stump hidden. "All right now… how do you intend to get out of this room without getting caught?"

"Well, Roy…" Johnny waggled an eyebrow. "I did a little scouting earlier, and I don't think it'll be all that hard. You know… the nurses' station is all the way at the opposite end of this hall. And even better — the elevator is not more than two feet from your door."

"I think I noticed somethin' like that when they brought me in here, yeah." Roy was beginning to feel better already, and he finally committed fully to Johnny's idea of a field trip. "So… I suppose you should go push the call button."

Johnny patted Roy on the shoulder. "Now you're talkin', Pally. I'll be right back…" He winked. "Don't go anywhere without me."

Roy just shook his head, and he couldn't suppress a grin. Johnny came in a minute later, a finger to his lips. "Marietta is at the desk, but she's workin' on somethin' and not paying attention… but Lisa just stepped into the room a couple doors down. We gotta be real quiet or she'll catch us. Thank goodness Debra went off duty a couple hours ago!"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Johnny just grinned and maneuvered the chair toward the door. He managed to get Roy out into the hallway just as the elevator was sliding open, and apparently no one saw them slip inside. Johnny punched the button to close the doors.

"All right, Houdini. Where to now?" Roy asked.

His friend shrugged. "This elevator goes up to the roof… let's go do some stargazing." He punched the requisite button and set the elevator in motion.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A few minutes later, the two friends sat side by side on the roof. What with the light pollution and the moon getting close to full, they couldn't really see any stars, but even so, just being outside filled Roy with an enormous sense of calm.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinkin'."

"Sounds dangerous." Roy's dry delivery elicited a snort from Johnny.

"Seriously, Roy… remember that crazy dame on that call… the one who was doin' 'scream therapy'?"

"Heh… how could I forget? Someone overheard her and called it in… thought she was dyin' or somethin'." Roy chuckled. "She sure thought she was gettin' somethin' outta it."

"Well, I was thinkin'... what if she was onto somethin'? Maybe she wasn't so crazy after all."

This time it was Roy who snorted. "More like she was _on_ somethin'. Or maybe you're just crazier than I realized."

"You gotta hear me out, Roy!" Johnny jumped down from the ledge where he'd perched himself and began pacing, punctuating his words with broad gestures of his good hand. "Now listen… you hafta be feelin' a lot of emotions right now. I know I am. I mean, we're lookin' at the… the end of an era, if you will. You an' me… workin' as partners… savin' lives… and then becomin' captains… It's been… well… somethin' pretty special."

Roy snorted again. "Heh… you make it sound like we should be gettin' Oscars or somethin'."

Johnny's eyes brightened and he put his hand in the air, clearly envisioning his next words in lights. "The Fire Academy Awards… I like that, Roy! Amazing idea!"

"You had a point?" Roy asked, with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh… yeah. So, I was thinkin'... we've both got all these emotions… at least, I do, and I figure you're bound to. And we need to get 'em out somehow, so's we can get on with things… get our new start." He kept pacing, good hand flying, and Roy couldn't help wondering (not for the first time) where he got his energy.

"And you think we should try this scream therapy?" Roy figured if he didn't push Johnny along, he might never actually get around to what he was meaning to say.

"Well, yeah." Johnny shrugged. "Why not? That's why I brought us up here… no one can hear us, especially at this end of the roof. We can be as loud as we want and it won't attract any attention. See, that's where that dame went wrong — she should've found a place like this so no one would think she was dyin' and call it in."

"All right," Roy sighed. "I'll give it a try… hell, I've got nothin' to lose. But first… you gotta stop pacin' — you're makin' me dizzy! And you gotta listen to me, and then you gotta make me a promise."

Johnny stopped and turned to face him, suddenly serious. "Go on."

Roy pointed to his friend's injured hand. "Johnny, I don't believe you're really washed up."

"What do you mean?" Johnny's eyes flicked away from Roy's steady gaze.

Roy shifted slightly in the chair. "I mean… I think there's a part of you that… _wants_ to be washed up."

"That's just plain stupid, Roy." Johnny started to pace again, then stopped and looked out over the city, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Roy knew he'd struck a nerve. "It's not stupid. It's just… that code of loyalty you live by, and maybe a bit of guilt thrown in. You saw what happened to me and you know I can't come back from it… and so you think you need to bow out too. We became paramedics together… then we became captains together… and we always figured we'd go out together too. But Johnny, this isn't the way to do it."

Johnny turned and sat on the ledge again. He still didn't meet Roy's eyes, but Roy could tell he wasn't quite ready to give up the fight. "Dr. Valdez _did_ say there could be permanent damage."

Roy had to chuckle. "If Nita were here right now, she'd be callin' you a stubborn Choctaw, but she's not, so I'll do it for her. Yeah, there could be. Doesn't mean there _is._ So, here's what I want you to promise, and then I'll try your wacky scream therapy idea and anything else you want me to try. I know you've already talked about it with Nita, but I want your word you won't go into it half-hearted. Whatever therapy they want you to do… do it. Put your whole heart into it. Don't hold back because you feel guilty about me." He pulled up the blanket, revealing the stump of his leg. "This is already bad enough, John," he said. "I don't need you backin' off therapy on my conscience."

"You know me too well, Roy," Johnny said after a long moment of silence. "I don't think I realized it until you pointed it out… but yeah… I think… you're right." At last he raised his eyes to meet Roy's. "All right, I give you my word. You can even coach me… Hell… we can coach each other. You've got plenty of hard work ahead of you, too."

"You've got a deal." Roy relaxed. "All right… so how do we start this off?"

"Um… Roy… it's scream therapy. Ya just… scream."

"Yeah, but _what_ am I supposed to scream?"

"Whatever you're feelin', Roy."

Roy thought for a moment, then drew in a deep breath and let it out in one long, loud scream. "THIS SUCKS!"

"C'mon Roy… that's all you've got?" Johnny straightened up and screamed at the top of his lungs, "IT ISN'T FAIR, GOD!"

Roy shook his head and then let loose with a string of screamed cuss words that would have sent JoAnne straight for a bar of Irish Spring if Chris or Megan had been the culprit. Johnny followed suit, screaming out all the anger and fear and sorrow that had been gnawing away at his insides all week.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

At last they both grew quiet and just sat together again. And both were startled by the sound of a throat clearing behind them.

"Are the two of you quite finished?"

Johnny turned Roy's chair around slowly, bringing them face to face with Dixie, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping away, one eyebrow arched, and a grim twist to her lips. "Well now, Dix… uh… I can explain…"

She shook her head. "I don't even want to hear it, Johnny. What I want to know is…" And that's when Roy saw her eyes twinkle and her mouth soften into a smile. "...why didn't you invite me? You could have saved us a lot of anxiety while we were searching for you, and after this week, I have some choice words I'd love to let fly myself."

"Sorry, Dix." Johnny beckoned her over to join them. "Um… if you want to… the stage is yours."

She seemed to consider it, but then shook her head. "Tempting… but not tonight… not now. They've been looking for you, and Dr. Brackett is fit to be tied. For the sake of poor Marietta and Lisa, I'm getting you back downstairs, Roy DeSoto, and if you know what's good for you, no more escape attempts." She moved behind the wheelchair and nudged Johnny out of the way, taking control of steering it herself. "And Johnny, don't you think I don't know this was all your idea. I bent the rules letting you stay overnight in Roy's room, but that's done with."

Roy jumped readily to Johnny's defense. "Now Dix, it _was_ good for me, and he just suggested it… I willingly went along with him. And ya know what, I feel a lot better after Johnny's 'scream therapy.' Please let him stay. I promise we won't do it again."

Dixie stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the button to call it up to the roof. "That's what you call it, huh? Scream therapy? I'm glad you feel better, Roy, but I'm not the one who banished Johnny. Kel's the one you need to convince, and it's going to be a hard sell — he's very angry. Oh… and if you _ever_ pull a stunt like this again, I am going to tell your wives _exactly_ what I heard you screaming." The elevator door slid open and she pushed Roy inside.

Johnny followed meekly behind them. "We won't do it again, Dix," he promised, holding up his left hand in a three-fingered salute. "Scout's honor."

"Yeah, we won't do it again," Roy agreed.

"Good." She pressed the button for Roy's floor and then the button for the ground floor. "Roy, you have friends waiting in your room; Johnny, Dr. Brackett is expecting you in his office. I suggest you get that arm back in the sling before you go in there."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Doc, please…" Johnny sat forward in the chair, facing Kel Brackett across his desk. "Roy shouldn't be alone right now."

"What, I should let you stay with him so you can practice new ways of breaking him out?" Brackett's eyes flashed. "You should know better, Johnny! Hell, you _do_ know better! Roy was in a coma less than 24 hours ago and now you've got him gallivanting up to the hospital roof?! Of all the irresponsible stunts you could have pulled! You're lucky nothing happened."

"I'm sorry, Doc… it was a mistake." Johnny had all sorts of things he wanted to say, but he bit them all back. He hadn't antagonized Kel Brackett like this in years. For now, calm and steady was the way to go. "I shouldn't have taken him up there. But I wish you would listen to me. He had a bad nightmare, Doc. He was breathin' hard and his pulse was racin' and he woke up really upset. I'm afraid if it happens again and he's alone, he might try gettin' up… and that would be a lot worse than me takin' him outside, wouldn't it?"

"Nightmare?" Kel frowned, suddenly backing off his lecture. "About the fire and collapse?"

"No… about Nam," Johnny said. He watched Kel's eyebrows rise. "He won't talk about it with me, which is fine… I don't need him to tell me about it till he's ready. But Doc… he needs someone with him, and the someone he asked for is me."

Brackett sighed. At least his anger seemed to have abated and his tone had softened. "Listen, Johnny… I'm not just saying no because of your little excursion… though that's reason enough. I'm also concerned about you. You've just had surgery… you're supposed to take it easy, and taking care of your friend in a high-stress situation just doesn't fit the bill. If I had been consulted about your little arrangement with Dixie, I would have put my foot down then. But I also agree that Roy shouldn't be alone. His friends Taffy and Anton are here now, up in his room. After a short visit, Taffy will drive you back to the DeSotos' and then go on to his hotel. Anton will stay with Roy tonight."

Johnny frowned. He knew he should just be glad Roy wouldn't be alone, and he could use a rest right now — he'd put off taking his pain meds because he knew they would knock him out, and his hand and wrist were really throbbing. But he wasn't glad. He knew Anton, of course… had met him in Paris along with the rest of Roy's buddies from Nam. Anton was a good guy. But Johnny couldn't help feeling usurped.

"Fine, Doc," he snapped. He didn't mean to sound sullen; it just came out that way. _Grow up, John Gage,_ he told himself. _This isn't a grade school playground._ "I'll just go wait for Taffy."

Brackett's right eyebrow quirked upward. "Not going to say goodnight to Roy?"

Johnny stopped at the door. "He's got company… he'll be fine. I'll see him tomorrow. I've gotta call Nita and I'm hungry. I'll wait for Taffy down here in the nurse's lounge. And Doc… for what it's worth, I _am_ sorry." And with that, he pushed through the door and trudged down the hall.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel watched Johnny out the door. He hoped the stubborn hose jockey really would get some rest and let himself heal. As worried as Brackett was about Roy, he was just as concerned for his moody best friend. _Maybe I came down too hard on him._

But no… Johnny had deserved the dressing down. Even if his heart was in the right place, it had led him to act without thinking, a dangerous proposition for a man as accident prone as John Gage. Johnny had a big heart, especially where his family was concerned. But there were some days — especially when someone in that family was hurting — when he didn't seem to have the sense God gave a goose. And that's right where he was this week with Roy.

Kel had watched the relationship between Roy and Johnny grow from its very beginning… from the days when they first united against him in supporting the paramedic program. That common cause, working hand-in-hand with each man's deep-seated need to help others, had cemented a strong bond between the two of them early on — a bond which had only grown stronger throughout their partnership. That bond was the secret behind the best paramedic team in the county — Hell, if Kel were a betting man, he would have put money on DeSoto and Gage being the best team in the entire state, if not the country. Losing them to promotion had hit hard. Though Kel understood their need for the higher pay that went along with the captain's hat, he had been loath to lose them. He'd trained and worked with many paramedics since those early days, but he had yet to come across another team like Roy and Johnny.

Roy was reliable… well-grounded… in his professional life as well as his personal life. Kel knew that he tended toward depression and had struggled after returning from Nam, but it never interfered with his work. In fact, from what JoAnne said, his work with the Fire Department was a big part of what pulled him through the darkness and kept him sane.

Johnny, meanwhile, was whip-smart, but could get his head lost in the clouds without Roy's quiet, steadying influence. He was the innovator, the improviser of the pair. Honest to a fault, he seemed to lack the arrogance that often went along with a personality like his. Generally, he would readily admit when he was wrong, but there were times when he needed to be taken down a peg and Roy would cheerfully step in and take care of it with a well-aimed zinger.

When the two went to work together, it was like magic. Each seemed to know what the other needed without a word spoken. Kel had been privileged to watch them in action more than once and had always come away feeling a bit awestruck.

Now Kel wondered if there were some way to restore that magic. Roy's days as a fire captain were over, that much was clear. Likely, the department would offer him a desk job, but he would be wasted there. You didn't just consign a man with his knowledge and experience and understanding to a lifetime of pushing papers.

The seed of an idea took root in Kel's mind, and he made a mental note to discuss it with Johnny. The man was angry at him now, but he never held a grudge for long, and Kel hoped that this idea would both mend some fences and provide some positive motivation for Roy as he moved forward into rehabilitation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: This chapter and the last were emotionally very difficult to write. This tale is going far beyond what I expected — especially with weaving in Roy's backstory — but it has all just seemed to fit, so I'm letting the story carry me where it wants to go for now.**

 **I did realize a mistake I made in Chapter 8 and carried over into this chapter, which I have now corrected in an edit. I accidentally gave Roy the same nurses he had in ICU, even though he was moved out of ICU. Rather than Cindy and Suzanne moving down with him, he is now being tended by Marietta and Lisa, at least until shift-change.**

 **Several reviewers mentioned liking Dixie catching Roy and Johnny on the roof. I hadn't been planning that, and her clearing her throat caught me by surprise as much as it did them! It's also one of my favorite parts of the story.**

 **Marbo, you are right. Roy's memories from Vietnam are scary, and many Vietnam vets live with terrible memories even now. So many of them came back having experienced terrible trauma, and far too many fell through the cracks after they got home. Sadly, they were more likely to return to jeers and ridicule than to the honor and respect they deserved, which only made things that much worse. I couldn't let Roy fall through the cracks, though — he came home to a supportive family and the love of JoAnne to help him through it all.**

 **Thank you, faithful readers and reviewers, and thank you especially to my beta-readers! Piscean6724 is an endless source of encouragement! And katbybee has helped immeasurably with brain-storming and by providing her Hogan's Heroes characters: in this chapter, you will meet two of her OCs: Taffy, a Welsh chaplain who was imprisoned with the canon HH crew in Stalag 13 and later figures in kat's story** _ **Three Ring Circus,**_ **and Anton, who also figures in** _ **Three Ring Circus**_ **(if you want to know more about him read the story — I don't give spoilers)** _ **.**_ **Kat has graciously allowed me the use of these characters and helped assure that I keep them in character as I write.**

 **Three songs that I love have stood out to me as appropriate for Roy. I don't quote them in the story at all because they are fairly recent and he could not have listened to them during the time of this story; however, I've listened to each of them multiple times while writing these recent chapters, and I thought you might enjoy being able to look them up. So… if you like, check out the following songs by Andrew Peterson on youtube: The Rain Keeps Falling, In the Night, and The Silence of God.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 9

Roy's friends stood back while Dixie got him settled in his bed again. "You have a good talk," she said, and she patted him on the arm. "Lisa will be in to check your vitals and give you your meds in a few minutes. Meanwhile, my shift is almost over. I have a few reports to sign, and then I'm going home." Her soft smile assured Roy that all was forgiven.

"Thanks, Dix." Roy waved as she moved to the door, then turned his attention to his guests. "Taffy… Anton… you both came."

Anton shrugged and smiled. "I had just finished up a job in Paris and was at Taffy's when he got the call from the Colonel. I had some vacation time saved up, so here I am. Dr. Brackett asked me to take over for Johnny tonight… hope that's OK with you."

"Well, damn…" Roy frowned, then turned to look at Anton. "Sorry… I'm glad you're here… but I'll bet Johnny's takin' it hard… 'specially after what I said earlier." Roy regretted telling Johnny he would talk to Anton or Carter, but not to him. He knew Johnny meant well… knew that he just wanted to help. But Johnny had no context for understanding; he couldn't begin to imagine the things that Roy had seen and experienced. And Roy didn't want to burden him with that. Yeah, Johnny had been through rough patches in his own life — losing his little sister, his mom's death by suicide, and his dad succumbing to cancer — all before he was 13.* And yet somehow he'd managed to hold on to a childlike innocence that Roy envied. Roy didn't want to destroy that, not just for Johnny's sake, but for his own. Johnny's sense of wonder, his exuberance about the smallest things, even the way he would start rambling on about his passion du jour — just being around that restored, even if only for a little while, some of that kid nature Vietnam had stolen from Roy; that's what led him to agree to crazy things like a hospital room escape and a rooftop session of scream therapy. Sometimes Roy thought that if he spent enough time around Johnny — if his friend didn't manage to drive him stark raving mad first — maybe he would finally really heal.

But Anton… Anton had been with Roy in the prison camp, had seen everything he'd seen. They had both been damaged by their time in Nam, and Roy had no doubt Anton still struggled with the memories same as he did. Roy thought back to their first encounter… and for a moment, it was like he was there again… marching at gunpoint past the tiger cage… seeing the kid inside as he scraped something across the metal bars in a futile attempt to file through them. _Kid… that's what he looked like to me, even though he's not much younger 'n I am. Guess I felt like I aged a couple decades those first few months in Camp 208._

Anton was released from the cage eventually to take his place in the prison huts with the rest of the broken, hopeless men, and he somehow managed to rally them. Roy had already been tending to their medical needs as best he could in those filthy conditions; Anton organized them, got them working together for a common purpose — not just survival, but escape. He and Roy quickly became more than friends… theirs was a brotherhood forged in the fires of Hell, and that brotherhood kept them both alive.

Sometimes thinking about those days… and their friendship… was too difficult, because it brought back the horror of it all, but Roy knew that if he ever got word Anton was hurt, he would drop everything to go support him however he could. Now he gripped Anton's hand. "Thanks for comin'."

"Anytime, Roy."

Taffy stepped up and squeezed his shoulder. "Dr. Brackett asked me not to stay long… he says you need your rest. Especially after…" Here he raised an eyebrow. "...your little adventure. But I want to pray for you before I leave… if I may."

Roy bit back the urge to scoff, the way he would have in the old days. He knew the old RAF chaplain well enough to know that he hadn't stopped praying from the moment he got the call. But prayer wouldn't bring Roy's leg back. Taffy raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer. "Go ahead," Roy said quietly.

Taffy kept his hand on Roy's shoulder, and Anton followed suit. All three men bowed their heads and closed their eyes, and Taffy prayed. "Father, thank you for saving Roy and for using him to save those children. For as long as I've known him, he's been a man of honor, putting the lives and safety of others before his own. Be with him now as he heals. Give him strength to work through the pain and the anger and the grief, and prepare his heart for the new purpose you have for him. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen."

"Amen," Anton echoed.

Roy remained silent. Finally, Taffy patted his arm and pulled back his hand. "Well, good night, Roy."

As the older Welshman turned toward the door, Roy felt something breaking inside him. He'd spent so many years closed off to God, convinced he didn't need the faith his wife wished they shared, but then almost seven years ago, after a bad rescue, he had broken down and made that faith his own.** And now, as angry as he was, he knew he couldn't just turn his back on that — not, at least, without becoming as bitter and hard-hearted as JoAnne's mother had been. He didn't want that for himself or his family. Taffy's hand was on the door when he finally spoke. "Amen… and Taffy… thanks."

Taffy turned back and looked at him. "You are most welcome, my boy. Remember, God knows. He always knows what is in our hearts. You can trust Him with your pain and your anger. He has big shoulders, Roy. Don't forget that." With that, Taffy smiled and slipped from the room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

By the time Lisa came in to take Roy's vitals and give him his meds, Anton had made himself comfortable, stretching out on the other bed in the room. "Feels good after all those hours cooped up on the plane… seems like we hit delay after delay getting here. Sat on the tarmac in New York for 3 hours after boarding before we were finally able to take off. Mechanical problems, they said."

"Could've been worse," Roy snarked. "They might've figured that out after you were in the air!"

"Your vitals look pretty good, Captain DeSoto," Lisa interjected. "Heartrate's a little elevated, though. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?"

"Four," Roy lied. It was really about an eight... approaching a nine. "I can handle it… I don't need the morphine." But he could see in Cindy's eyes that she wasn't convinced.

"You need to stay ahead of the pain, Captain," she scolded lightly.

But Roy was stubborn. "No morphine," he insisted. "I don't like how it makes me feel." That at least was true… it made him drowsy, which meant sleeping, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

She sighed. "All right then. I'll just hang the saline solution and your antibiotic for now. But I'll have to let Dr. Brackett know you've refused it, and he'll probably be up here to talk with you about it."

 _More likely he'll send Dixie,_ Roy thought. But he only said, "Fine." If Dixie got wind, he knew he'd be getting the morphine within the hour, but at least he could put it off a little bit.

Lisa finished her work and hurried out. Meanwhile, Anton rolled onto his side and faced Roy, suddenly somber. "Bad dreams?"

"Somethin' like that. Worst of it is… it was all real."

"Back at the camp?"

"Yeah. Day I got out of the tiger cage… been tryin' to forget that ever since."

Anton was sitting up now, listening intently. "You never told me about that."

"Never told anyone," Roy shot back.

"Well… I'm here. Maybe talking about it would help."

"Maybe." Roy knew Anton was right, and he had as much as promised Johnny he would talk to him. But that was when he didn't know Anton was actually coming. He sighed heavily. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he remembered his dad saying. "Yeah… OK."

He closed his eyes as he told the story. The images washed over him and for once he didn't fight them away. Maybe he just needed to let them play out, get to the end. He told Anton about the dream and then picked up where it left off… where Johnny had awakened him.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Once more, he was yanked to his feet. The first guard was laughing, a pistol smoking in his hand. Roy had been so focused on the water, he hadn't even noticed it. He did not expect for the pistol to be pressed into his own hand. In broken English, the guard gave his orders. "One must die… you choose." He gestured toward the other two prisoners, where they lay barely conscious in the dirt. Roy stared at them, he hefted the gun, momentarily considering turning it on the guard instead. But he knew that would be a futile gesture. They would not hand him a weapon unless they had one trained on him — on all three of them — right now. Even if he managed to take the guard out, Roy would be dead before the man hit the ground. He knew the unspoken rule — do what you must to survive. But this… he couldn't do this. How could he choose one man's life over another's? Perhaps the one he chose would thank him for it, would say he was showing mercy. But he could not know that — he would only be rationalizing, looking for a way to justify giving in to a great evil. The guard screamed at him, "Choose now! Or all die!"_

 _Roy looked up at the guard, locking eyes with him for only one brief second. And then he held the weapon to his own head. "I'm sorry, Joanne," he whispered. And he pulled the trigger. It clicked. The gun was empty, no bullet in the chamber. Roy fell once more to his knees, barely aware as he was dragged back to the cage and locked inside once more._

 _Numb inside, feeling as if he were floating above the prison yard, he watched as his tormentors shot the other two captives and dragged their corpses away. He must have slept after that because the next time he looked, the cages that had been emptied contained two new prisoners. They looked beaten and bruised and so very young and frightened. Roy wished he could talk to them, comfort them somehow, but even if talking had been allowed, he found that he had no words of comfort left in him. He closed his eyes and thought of Joanne and simply waited to die._

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie stood outside the door to Roy's room, her eyes swimming with tears. She had come to give Roy a piece of her mind, to insist that he accept the morphine. She knew he was in pain, she knew he needed relief so that he could rest. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she also didn't want to interrupt, and Roy's voice carried just far enough that she heard every word. He had told the story in a flat monotone, and yet she could hear his anguish echoing through every syllable.

She had come at Kel's behest to convince Roy to accept the morphine. But now she couldn't bring herself to enter the room. She didn't trust herself to hide the tears, to speak coolly and calmly and not let her emotions get the better of her, and she knew he wouldn't want her to see him right now anyway. Oh, she'd served in Korea… she had seen the horrible things human beings could do to one another... but just the idea of gentle, caring Roy DeSoto, being asked to make such a terrible choice, and then hearing how he'd turned that choice on himself rather than harm another… well, it was too much to bear, even for a hardened old Army nurse like Dixie McCall. _I suppose I haven't just broken Rule Number One where my boys are concerned… I've completely shattered it._ She dried her eyes, straightened her uniform, and hurried down the hall before Roy or Anton could realize she was there.

She considered going back to Kel. He would know how to comfort her, would wrap her in a hug or take her for coffee and willingly listen to her, get angry with her, help her calm and center herself and make ready to face the world again. But Kel would want to know exactly what had upset her so. He would dry her tears and press her to talk to him and she would not be able to tell him no. And she could not do that to Roy… as far as Roy knew, he had told his story to only one other living soul in the last 20 years, and that was Anton. Dixie knew she could not betray his privacy by sharing it with someone else without his consent.

And so her feet carried her not to the comfort of Kel Brackett, but to Rampart's chapel. She came through these doors often, almost always to find friends or family of a patient, taking refuge in the peaceful, quiet setting, and bring them news, whether welcome or heartbreaking, of their loved one. Rarely did she come to find comfort for herself, but tonight she needed to be here, needed some help to make sense of what she had just heard.

She slid into the pew, lowered the kneeler, and went to her knees, but when she opened her mouth to pray, words escaped her.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. "God hears what's in our hearts, you know," a familiar lilting voice said. "He hears your tears. That's why He gave them to us."

She had heard the voice for the first time just an hour or so ago, but it had captivated her. Now it washed over her heart like a healing balm. Setting herself once more on the pew, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Taffy… I… thank you." She had come here to be alone, but found comfort in the presence of Roy's friend, so she scooted over and gestured to the spot next to her. "This seat's free." She dabbed at her moist eyes again, then blew her nose. With a wry laugh, she crumpled the kerchief and stuck it back in her pocket. "I must look a sight."

"For sore eyes," the Welshman said as he sat next to her. "I felt a nudging in my heart as I walked by the chapel, on the way to look for John Gage. I've learned over the years never to ignore those. Anyway… I'm here if you need to talk. Or we can just be quiet together, as you prefer."

Dixie nodded. She sat quietly for another moment, then said softly, "I didn't mean to overhear. Roy and Anton were talking… I stopped at the door, waited to go in… and… and I heard... Roy's story." Tears gathered anew and hung on her lashes, then one coursed its way down her cheek. Taffy gently brushed it away with his thumb.

"I'm an old Army nurse, Taffy," Dixie continued. "I shouldn't break down like this, but…"

"But you've spent years loving on these men. They're like younger brothers to you. And the thought of somebody hurting any one of them hurts you deeply. And to learn it unexpectedly that way makes it hurt even more." Taffy turned to look into her eyes. "Roy is a lucky man, Nurse McCall, to have friends like you on his side."

Dixie reached for her damp handkerchief again, but Taffy stopped her. Then he handed her a clean one from his own pocket. "Here. Keep it. I've got more."

"Thank you." She dried her eyes and cheeks.

"Nurse McCall," Taffy said after a quiet moment, "I don't know Roy's full story, but I saw enough during my time in Vietnam to imagine. And just from the little time I've known you, I get the idea that it would take something truly terrible to bring you to tears like this. I'm not going to ask you to tell me — it's not my place. But guard it for him. In the right time — you'll know when — talk with him… let him know that you heard. It wasn't an accident that you heard, Nurse McCall — I believe that with all my heart."

She nodded again as she filled her lungs with a deep calming breath and then let it out slowly. "Yes," she said, her voice steadier now as she gazed into his warm brown eyes. "I will talk with him… when the time is right. Thank you, Taffy."

"My pleasure, Nurse McCall."

"Dixie," she corrected. She felt as if she'd been captured in his gaze, and she wasn't sure she wanted to break away, though she also felt like an awkward school girl.

"All right… Dixie." He broke eye contact suddenly and cleared his throat. "Well, I'd best be getting on to find John Gage. Your Dr. Brackett said he was waiting for me in the nurse's lounge."

Dixie noticed for the first time that he was holding her hand when he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. Then he stood and bowed slightly before turning for the door.

She watched him go, uncertain how to describe what she was feeling… uncertain if she should even be feeling that way so quickly after what she had heard from Roy. _Gracious, Dixie,_ she thought, _he's old enough to be… well… not your father, maybe… but still! Besides… he was just being a gentleman._

Not sure she trusted her legs to hold her, she sat a few more minutes after Taffy's departure before wandering out in a daze. She was glad her shift was over, because she wasn't sure she could manage to focus on patients or paperwork just now. She headed to the locker room to get things together and get ready to go home.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy shivered. Telling the story… reliving it as he did so… had taken more out of him than he'd expected. And he hadn't even gotten to the moment he was pulled out of the cage again, this time for good.

 _He had expected to hear another shot ring out any minute, allowing him to descend into the oblivion of death. Instead, he was yanked to his feet and forced stumbling along the path to a collection of small huts, built on stilts to prevent them washing away during the rainy season. Inside one of those huts, he was presented with the deathly ill Colonel Dao Van Long, and informed that to save his own life, he must save the colonel's. He never could remember exactly what he did or how he managed it, but within a week, the colonel was on the mend and Roy was moved to another hut, this one crammed with prisoners._

Now Roy was spent. He couldn't get another word out, so he just lay silent, watching Anton and trying to gauge his reaction.

After a long moment, Anton finally looked at Roy. "Would it surprise you to know I didn't belong in that camp at all? I wasn't supposed to be there?"

"None of us were," Roy answered, uncertain what his friend meant.

"No… I mean, I really wasn't supposed to be there. I wasn't a soldier. I wasn't in the military at all. I was an outside contact. I worked through the Underground and through Taffy. I was trying to help establish contacts inside the camp. Someone betrayed me and I got captured. I didn't find out who it was until it was far too late. In fact, I didn't know who it was until just before the escape."

Roy thought for a moment. "Duffy," he finally growled. He knew the man had betrayed them all to the Commandant. It wasn't a far stretch to figure that he had started out by betraying Anton.

"Yeah. Taffy, Fields and I were working together to try to figure out who it was. I think Taffy may have suspected, but he was trying to get proof."

"Well, he paid for it." Roy hated that hard part of himself that even now rejoiced in Duffy's death, but he couldn't help it.

Anton nodded. "Yeah. We didn't know the Army had an extra ace in their hand. Thank God they did… most everyone thought that guy was just nuts."

"You must be talkin' about Murdock." Roy nodded, remembering. "Yeah, he was nuts… but in a good way. Sure helped save our bacon that day."

"Well… a lot of things worked together… and a lot of people. We got lucky all the way around."

"Yeah, guess so." Roy yawned and shifted in his bed. He didn't want to sleep, but exhaustion was tugging at him and his eyelids were heavy. He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up.

"Roy, don't fight it," Anton advised. "As hard as it is, talking about it may help it to ease up in time. That's what I had to do. Still do. And it won't bother me if you need me to shake you awake, or if you need to wake me up to talk or just to be there. I sleep fairly light. And there is no shame in any of it. That's the thing. It is what it is. I'm here. And just remember, you are strong enough, no matter how it feels. They didn't break you back then, and they can't break you now."

"Yeah... I s'pose you're right. I hope you're right." Roy blinked again. "I'm really hurtin'."

"That's the other thing. Don't be afraid of the meds when you need them. Let them take the edge off, but don't let them drop you into oblivion. You need to rest...so let them do that. Why don't you call the nurse, and let her help you. I'm gonna grab a cup of coffee, and I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"Yeah." Roy pressed the call button. "Anton... thanks for listenin'. I feel... pretty raw still... but better after tellin' you."

Anton grinned. "Any time, my friend."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Dix?"

Dixie stopped and looked up. "Oh… Kel… sorry, didn't notice you there."

He chuckled. "I called your name four times! You sure were somewhere far away… you all right?"

"Yes… I'm… good, actually. Thanks, Kel." She felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

"Why, Dix, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were blushing." Kel's eyes danced, and Dixie felt a pang of guilt along with the reminder how very dear he was to her. "Anyway… whatever you said to Roy did the trick… Lisa just called down to let me know that he decided to take the morphine. Just thought you should know. Headed home?"

"Good. And yes, I'm tired. See you tomorrow, Kel." She decided it wasn't important to tell him she hadn't actually spoken to Roy; she was just glad he had opted for the pain relief after all, and she said a silent prayer that he would sleep without dreams tonight.

"See you tomorrow, Dix." He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze.

 _A platonic hug, that's all it is,_ she told herself. _He lost interest in anything more a long time ago._ With a small wave, she hurried to the door without looking back.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny climbed into Taffy's rental car and settled into the passenger seat, where he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He figured he would feign sleep to get out of polite conversation.

"Why do you feel threatened by Anton staying with Roy, John?" Taffy kept his eyes studiously on the road, but he might as well have been staring straight at the man in the passenger seat.

Johnny's eyes snapped open. "Huh?" So much for avoiding conversation. How did Taffy do that?! How did he see straight through to the heart of the matter? Well, Johnny was not about to admit he was right. "Don't know what you mean," he grunted.

Taffy smiled. "Don't be alarmed. I hold a master's degree in Psychology. My thesis had to do with people and relationships. I won't bore you with the details. I know you care deeply about Roy… and regardless of his other relationships, you want to be the one he leans on. It's hard when you're not, even though that doesn't make sense."

Johnny detected no judgement at all in the Welshman's voice, which fell silent as he watched the traffic and the street signs. "Turn left at the light," he said, eager to get to Roy's house as quickly as possible. "So… did that degree include certification in mind reading?" He couldn't resist the jab, but also decided it was prudent to surrender now… he'd heard from Roy how skilled Taffy was at pulling words out of a person, and he had no taste for fighting a losing battle. "We've had each other's backs for more than ten years now... seen all sorts of sh — er…" He quickly amended his language in front of the chaplain. "...crap… together. He's more than a friend, Taffy. He's family."

"Of course he is. And everyone he is close to feels the same way… his wife, you, Anton… the rest of us." The red arrow changed to green and Taffy made the left turn. "But you're right, John. The two of you are different. You have seen and done things together that are different. He and Carter and Anton… also different… they have a unique bond. Trick is, how to fit it all together without destroying each other… and more importantly, Roy... in the process."

"Hang a right up here at Halldale," Johnny directed, and Taffy nodded.

"Think of it this way, John. In your fire station, each man has a role to play, right? You have the paramedics… the linemen… the engineer… and then you, the captain."

"Yeah." John stared out the window as Taffy talked, but he was absorbing every word.

"If the linemen tried to do the paramedics' job, it would cause problems, wouldn't it? Could even lead to disaster, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you and Anton and Carter… and the rest of us… all have a part to play in helping Roy toward recovery. We can't do your part, and you can't do ours. Your unique bond with Roy prepares you to help him in a way that only you can. His need for Anton right now does nothing to negate his need for you."

Johnny nodded slowly, then heaved a long sigh. "I get it, Taffy, I do. But I still wonder… why can't he talk with me about it?"

"About Vietnam, you mean?"

"Yeah. I can see it sometimes in his eyes... it still haunts him. And I know he was havin' nightmares again in Paris... during the reunion. Then he had a bad one earlier tonight."

Taffy was quiet for a moment, and then pulled the car into a deserted parking lot and parked. He turned to face Johnny. "Do you know anyone who was a World War Two veteran, John? Personally, who talks about it, tells stories about the battles?"

Johnny nodded. "My uncle fought in the war... he helped raise me after my dad died. Sometimes his buddies would visit and they would sit around talking about their war stories, but they never knew I listened in. He always reckoned I was too young."

"Most veterans don't, because they have no need to talk about it. But the big difference in the two wars is that we won World War Two. There were other differences, too… during World War Two, at least in Europe, the POWs were protected by the Geneva Convention.*** Life in the camps was not pleasant. It was hard, especially towards the end. But when the war ended, our boys came home as heroes. They received a hero's welcome."

Where they sat, Taffy's face was illuminated by a streetlight. Johnny turned to face him and could see the emotions in his eyes as he remembered… anger, he thought, and a deep, lingering sorrow.

"All of that was nothing compared to the sheer hell that was Vietnam," the Welshman continued. "You see, we did not win in Vietnam. They didn't even have the guts to call it a war. They called it a 'conflict.' And when our boys came home from Vietnam, they were reviled, spat upon, and disgraced; made to feel ashamed that they had been ordered to fight... given no choice but to fight or become criminals if they avoided the draft. The Viet Cong treated POWs, like Roy, worse than animals, John. They ignored the Geneva Convention… kept their prisoners in cages or in pits… tortured them, both mentally and physically. Roy does not want you to think less of him for what he went through; he does not want you to suffer from knowing what he suffered. One man in pain is enough. I know, because for years, I felt the same way after Stalag 13, even though our treatment was not nearly as severe."

Johnny sucked in a breath at the words _cages_ and _tortured_. He hadn't thought too hard on what exactly Roy might have experienced. "I could never think less of him... I just want... to lighten his load by sharing it." He sighed. "I should've gone. My number was called up,**** but I got a deferment because my aunt was newly widowed and had no one else to support her. But... I should've been there. Then he could trust me with it."

Taffy smiled sadly. "No, John. It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of love and a gift. On both your parts. Think of it this way. What would have happened to your aunt if you had gone and you had been killed? You stayed, and she knew you loved her enough to take care of her. A gift. Roy loves you enough not to burden you with the pain of something you cannot change. A gift. You love Roy enough to want to take his pain on yourself. Again, a gift of love. That is a lot of love, my friend."

Johnny smiled softly. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "So... I guess the best way I can help him now is... step back and let Anton in."

Taffy grinned, his eyes dancing wickedly. "Yes. I'm afraid you will simply have to share your best friend, John."

With a shake of his head, Johnny mustered a wry laugh. "I guess I was actin' like a bratty little kid, wasn't I?"

Taffy nodded. "Don't worry. It happens to all of us from time to time," he said with an impish grin.

Johnny's shoulders felt lighter, his mind clearer, and he knew it was time to say what he'd been thinking for a while now. "Taffy... I need to say thank you… to you... Newkirk and Carter... Anton..." The fingers of his good hand rubbed at the stitching along the edge of his sling. "I was thinkin' this when I met y'all in Paris, but to be honest, I was a bit awestruck… I felt a little bit on the outside, out of my league... not sure I had the right to speak up…. But I'm not goin' to pass up the chance this time. You see, I lost several good friends in Vietnam... my best friend from high school among them. I never knew I had a brother there... didn't meet Roy till some years after he came home. Y'all made that possible. So... thank you."

Taffy smiled gently. "You're welcome. I can't say it was a pleasure, John. But it was our honor."

He started the car and they made their way back onto the street. For the next several minutes, the only conversation consisted of Johnny giving directions until at last they pulled up in front of the DeSoto house. Johnny climbed out, then moved around to the driver's side and knocked on the window. Taffy rolled it down. "Thanks, Taffy… for helpin' me get my head on straight." He tapped on the car roof a couple times, then took a step back to watch Taffy drive away, before he turned and walked slowly to the front door.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Notes**

 ***See my stories _The Gift_ and _Stirring the Ashes of Memory._**

 ****See my story _Christmas Eve Gift_.**

 *****Though Taffy does not mention them, I do not wish to minimize the experience of POWs in the Pacific Theater. Here also, the Geneva Convention was ignored and allied POWs were subjected to inhuman treatment.**

 ******Based on their birthdays (and the birth years I have assumed for them —1944 for Roy and 1950 for Johnny) both men would have been called up in the draft lottery of 1970. However, my backstory for Roy has him volunteering for medic training the day he turned 18 (November 9, 1962). In Emergency canon, Johnny's veteran status is not mentioned (as far as I remember), but it seems to me that he is not a veteran. Therefore, I wanted to come up with a reason that he would have been deferred (I just can't see him as a draft dodger). I've taken a little license by allowing him a deferment for being his aunt's only support. According to my research, he would actually have had to either have a parent or sibling killed in military service in order to be granted a deferment as a "surviving son." Perhaps someone on the draft board in their community knew Johnny's aunt and convinced the rest of the board that she needed him at home.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: This chapter is, thankfully, a bit lighter than the last two, and I hope you will all enjoy it. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. And thanks as always to my beta readers! Your encouragement and friendship means the world to me!**

 **With this chapter, I have a new person to thank! Rachel is a retired physical therapist who provided me with lots of good information about what Roy's and Johnny's PT would involve, and I really appreciate her help! Johnny hasn't started his PT yet, but when he does, his therapist's name will be Rachel.**

 **I should note that as of 11 August, I have posted revisions to the first nine chapters of this story. I made no substantive changes that would require a reread, but hopefully have made some improvements in word choice and structure. I also found an embarrassing number of typos and misspellings that I have now corrected. Usually, I catch those when I read out loud to my husband or son, but clearly some still slip through.**

 **Marbo, I understand what you mean when you say it was tough reading the last chapter — believe me, it was tough writing it, too. Born in '69, I was young enough when the US left Vietnam that I had not really been aware of that war. When I was a bit older and in junior high and high school, we never covered it properly history classes. Maybe it was still just too recent, I'm not sure. So, even though I visited the Memorial Wall in D.C., where I read the names of the dead and the missing and ran my fingers over them and wondered about them and paid my respects, I knew very little about the conflict until I was older and reading about it on my own. I still don't know as much as I should, but I am learning.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny cut a strange figure, to say the least, as he strolled nonchalantly through the halls of Rampart wearing a long overcoat with large pockets. He kept his left hand in one of those pockets. On the right, the coat covered up his sling and his injured right arm. Nita walked beside him, a bemused smile on her face. She glanced at her husband and resituated the coat before it could slide off his shoulder. "If Dixie catches you…" she murmured under her breath.

"She won't… just act natural."

"I'm not comfortable with this, Nashoba!" she hissed. "The rules are in place for a reason! And besides… it's 80 degrees outside and you're wearing an overcoat!" She giggled nervously. "You look ridiculous."

"Some rules are made to be broken," he said, and he bent to kiss her on the head, then pressed the elevator call button. "C'mon, Nita… you know this will be good for Roy. Remember old Bertha Bob? This was just what the doc ordered for her, and you know how much good it did her too." He gave Nita his best puppy-dog eyes. "And I did give in to you about the wheelchair the other day." He hadn't told her about the excursion he'd taken with Roy, though he figured she'd find out eventually.

Nita's gaze shifted side to side as if to make sure that no one was paying attention. "Fine then," she said with a resigned sigh, which melted into a soft smile. "Let's hurry. And if Dixie catches you… I had nothing to do with it!"

"I will take full responsibility." He punctuated his promise with another kiss as they stepped into the elevator. Once the doors had closed, Johnny pulled his hand out of the pocket. Nestled in that hand was a sleepy little black and tan puppy. He held her up near his face, and her tongue flicked out to give him a puppy kiss. "Good girl," he murmured, and he kissed her nose. "We're almost there." As the elevator slowed to a stop, he stowed the puppy back in his pocket.

He and Nita stepped out of the elevator and then turned in through the first door to find Roy and Anton. Roy's face lit up at their arrival. His physical therapist, Nick Donovan, was just packing up to leave. "Remember, Captain DeSoto… you need to do the exercises we worked on three times a day to avoid contractures. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Got it, thanks, Nick." After Donovan left the room, Roy shook his head wearily. "I think I'm going to hate that man before this is all over. Damn, but that workout hurt… and I hardly did anything." He pushed the button to elevate the head of his bed so that he was sitting up, and gestured toward the chairs. "Hi, Nita… Hi, Johnny. C'mon in. Jo's spendin' the morning with the kids. She'll bring 'em by a little later."

Anton got up. "I think I'll take a little walk."

"It's ok, Anton," Johnny said, and he graced Roy's friend with a lopsided grin. "Stick around." He wasn't sure whether Anton had heard about his little attitude problem the other day, but he hoped not… he had gotten over it pretty quickly after the talk with Taffy.

Anton stood up anyway. "I'll be right back… just going to get some coffee. Want anything?"

"I'll have a cup," Roy said. "But —"

Anton chuckled. "I know, I know… get it from the nurses' lounge, not the vending machine. Lisa told me this morning she stocked up on the creamer you like."

"Roy's a big favorite around here," Johnny quipped. "None of the nurses ever did that for me. I'll have a cup too, though… thanks."

As soon as Anton stepped out, Roy looked Johnny up and down. "All right, what've you got stashed in there?"

Johnny did his best to look innocent. "Who me?"

"Look, Johnny…" Roy rolled his eyes. "I know it's not rainin' or cold outside. There's only one reason you'd be wearin' that overcoat, and that's to hide something. I'm surprised none of the nurses stopped you on the way in. Dixie really must be slippin'... So spill it… what've ya got? I've been hopin' ya might bring me a Double Double*… but I don't smell it."

"Sorry," Johnny said with a shrug. "Maybe tomorrow. But try this on for size." He pulled the puppy out of his pocket and set it on Roy's bed.

Johnny could see Roy's emotions warring in his eyes. He'd resisted getting a new dog after Gus died some months back, and Johnny hoped he wouldn't put up a fight about this pup. "She's yours if you want her. Needs a good home. Her mama was a stray hanging around a neighbor's ranch. She had a litter of pups a couple months ago, but rejected them. Vet's been bottle feedin' em. Anyway, this little girl got a clean bill of health and is ready for a new home. She's the sweetest one of the lot. Whatcha say, Roy?"

Roy stared down at the puppy. She had curled up on his lap and promptly fallen asleep, but when he brushed his hand over her head and back, she opened her eyes and stretched, then rolled over to bare her tummy. Roy chuckled and gave her a belly rub. "Um… thanks, Johnny. Yeah… I'll…" His eyes misted over and Johnny saw a tear just about to drop before he wiped it away. "Sorry… my emotions have been pretty wild. I tear up over just about anything. But yeah… I'll take her."

Johnny waggled an eyebrow. "Good… because Jo already said yes and the kids are pretty excited."

"Figures." Roy held the puppy up to look her over carefully. "So… does she have a name yet?"

"You get naming rights… though the kids all had suggestions. DJ wants Peanut... Megan says she should be called Princess Leia… and Chris likes… " Johnny frowned and snapped his fingers. "Nita, what was it Chris wanted?"

"Gertie." Nita stepped to Roy's bedside and patted on the puppy.

"Oh yeah… Gertie… after the little girl in E.T." Johnny sat down and leaned back in his chair. "So… whatcha thinkin'?"

"Well, can't use Peanut, Princess Leia, or Gertie," Roy said after a moment of consideration. "Don't want to choose one of the kids over the other. Besides… I think she looks like a Calpurnia."

"Calpurnia?" Johnny scoffed good-naturedly. "What kinda name is that for a little mutt?"

Nita brightened. "Julius Caesar's wife, right?"

"Got it in one, Nita. Johnny, remember Gus?"

"How could I forget?" Johnny grumbled. "How many times did that crazy mutt eat my shoes?"

"Shouldn't've left 'em on the floor!" Roy shot back. "Anyway, his full name was Augustus — not that he knew it — after the Roman emperor. That's how my dad always named our dogs when I was a kid… after Roman emperors or their wives. Calpurnia was the wife of Julius Caesar. And this little girl is hereby christened Calpurnia DeSoto." He gently squeezed one of the puppy's forepaws and raised an eyebrow. "And looks to me like she'll grow into that name before too long… still, I'll call her Callie for short."

A noise at the door prompted Johnny to throw a sheet over Calpurnia, but it was only Anton returning with coffee. Roy pulled the sheet free and proudly presented the pup. "Anton, meet Calpurnia DeSoto… Callie for short."

"Well, hello there, Callie-for-short… I'm pleased to meet you." Anton set down the coffee cups, then patted the pup and laughed when she licked his hand. "Guess I'd better warn you, Doc Brackett is headed this way."

Roy quickly passed Callie to Johnny, who hid her in the pocket just in time for the doctor to turn in at the door. "Hi, Doc," they all chorused.

Brackett just stood there, staring at Johnny for a moment. "Interesting fashion statement, Johnny," he finally said. "What look are you going for? Detective or secret agent?"

"Cool weather is coming, Doc… just trying to be ready." Johnny winked at Roy and then nodded to Nita. "We were just on our way out… Roy, we'll be back later. We have a little delivery to make to JoAnne, and then I'm taking my wife out to lunch."

Brackett shook his head slowly. "You're up to something… but everyone's where they should be this time, so I don't even want to know what it is. Now, get out of here before Dixie comes sniffing around."

"Yessir," Johnny agreed and then, with a grin and a wave, he beat a hasty retreat, Nita at his side.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy appraised his appearance in the hotel mirror. His skin tingled from a liberal application of Old Spice aftershave and his silver hair was neatly combed. He straightened his jacket, then wet his hand to smooth down an errant strand of hair. "You're looking quite dapper if I do say so myself, Taffy my boy," he murmured. By the time he arrived at the hospital, Dixie would have received his flowers, along with an invitation to join him for dinner at Miceli's after her shift ended this evening. He hoped she would agree.

They had enjoyed a simple lunch together on Saturday afternoon, and found that when time came for Taffy to pay the bill and deliver his date back to the hospital, they were not quite ready to part. Even so, he had pulled his rental car into the parking spot at Rampart precisely on time. Ever the Old-World gentleman, he had moved quickly around the car to open the door for Dixie, then offered his hand with a slight bow. "Allow me."

He'd sent a mixed bouquet on Sunday with a simple note of appreciation: _My Dearest Dixie, I hope you enjoyed our lunch as much as I did. You are a charming companion. Thank you. Affectionately Yours, Valentine 'Taffy' Matthews._ When he'd seen her at the hospital, she'd smiled and thanked him and said that her only complaint was that they didn't have enough time before she'd had to return to work.

For today, he had chosen a larger bouquet, this time with roses. He had never been taken with a woman the way he was with Dixie. She was a strong woman… some might call her outspoken, but Taffy appreciated her straightforward, honest nature. She was fiercely protective, and Taffy got the feeling she would stare down a tiger or an oncoming tank before she let it through to harm someone she loved. And underneath that tough shell beat a deeply compassionate heart. The tears she'd shed over Roy… Taffy did not consider them a sign of weakness by any means. No, they were simply evidence of a great capacity for love.

He smiled at his reflection and then gathered up his wallet and keys and headed out the door.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Delivery for Nurse McCall."

 _Oh good… must be that shipment of rubber gloves… we're running low._ Dixie reached into a drawer of the registration desk for the inventory checklist, then looked up to see, not the medical supplies rep she had expected, but the delivery boy from Freddie Bloom's, the florist down the street from the hospital, and he was carrying an absolutely gorgeous flower arrangement. Robby was actually the proprietor's grandson and worked at the shop when he wasn't in school. He was a good kid. Dixie didn't think Frederika Blumenstein's grandkids would dare be anything but good — their feisty grandmother would nip any nonsense in the bud but fast!

Freddie Bloom, as she was known by all her friends, was a much loved and celebrated fixture in the Carson community. Almost 70, she had opened her florist shop only five years ago after the death of her husband. From what Dixie had heard, she'd had trouble finding a bank willing to take the risk of giving her a start-up loan at her age, but she'd finally convinced one. With that loan and her husband's life-insurance payout, she'd gone into business, and with hard work and careful management, she had paid the loan back within three years.

One thing Freddie Bloom was known for was her soft spot for first responders. Her husband had worked his entire career in the Los Angeles County Fire Department, starting out as a lineman and retiring in 1970 as a battalion chief. Freddie had spent years mothering Marty's boys, and his death didn't change a thing. She even kept an emergency scanner in the back room of her shop so she could keep track of them. When one of them ended up at Rampart, everyone knew an arrangement from Freddie Bloom's would arrive within a day, and she offered a significant discount to the families of any first responders.

But this delivery was not for a firefighter, or any patient for that matter… it was for Dixie. And that was unusual. At least, it had been before Taffy arrived. She smiled at the young man and accepted the flowers with a soft, "Thank you." She set them on the desk, then reached for her pocketbook to offer him a tip.

"Thank you, ma'am, but no need," the young man said. "Sender already took care of it."

Dixie pushed the bill toward him anyway. "Take it… I know your grandmother is always sending flowers over here at her own expense, so you can consider it my contribution to her cause."

He grinned sheepishly and accepted the money. "Thank you, ma'am," he said with a nod and a smile. "Have a nice day!"

The arrangement of daffodils and roses and baby's breath was truly stunning. Dixie admired it for a moment before plucking the card from its holder. Of course, she was sure she knew who sent the flowers. When she glanced at the note inside the card, her suspicions were confirmed. She smiled softly and tucked the card back into its envelope, already looking forward to a dinner date with Taffy.

"Dana's husband apologizing for forgetting their anniversary?" Kel's voice interrupted Dixie's reverie.

"Who… Dana?" Kel was talking about the young woman who usually took care of the front desk. She had been livid the other day over the forgotten anniversary, and everyone on staff knew it. "Oh no… these are for me. Dana got called in to her son's school, so I'm filling in here till she gets back."

Kel's cheek twitched, a sure sign that he was troubled. "For you, huh? From whom?"

Dixie wasn't sure if he sounded worried or incredulous, but she found either reaction perturbing. How long had she waited for Kel to rekindle that old flame they'd once enjoyed? Every once in a while, she thought there might still be a spark between them, but then he'd say or do something to douse it as thoroughly as 51's men at a dumpster fire. Well, she wouldn't give too much time to trying to work out his meaning just now. Instead, she just smiled impishly, her eyebrows quirking upwards and her head tilting to the side. "Well now, I'd say that's a secret between the sender and me, Kel."

When his brow wrinkled up in consternation at this response, he looked for all the world like a lost little boy. Regret filled Dixie at the sight — she never meant to hurt him.

"Oh," he said, suddenly crestfallen. He drummed his knuckles on the desk for a moment, seeming to search for something more to say, then he grabbed a patient file, turned away, and walked on down the hall without another word.

Dixie sat back and returned the inventory checklist to the drawer. The ER was having a rare quiet day, and the few patients in the waiting area had signed in already. _Calm before the storm, no doubt. I sure hope Dana gets back soon._ She didn't mind an occasional stint at the front desk, but she was a nurse, not a paper-pusher. Still, a little rest was nice every now and then.

She glanced at the beautiful flowers and smiled. The roses reminded her of a sunset over the Pacific, a soft yellowy-orange with a red tinge at the tips of the petals, the perfect complement to the cheerful bright yellow of the daffodils. She leaned in close and inhaled deeply, letting the spicy-sweet fragrance fill her senses and wash away the regret she'd felt at the disappointment on Kel's face.

"Looks like someone has an admirer."

Dixie looked up to see Joe Early standing across the desk from her with a cup of coffee. He took a sip, then leaned in to sniff at the flowers. "An admirer with good taste in flowers, at that."

She smiled. "Maybe."

Joe eyed her with concern. "And _maybe_ this is why Kel is storming around the ER like a thundercloud about to burst?"

She just rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Joe. It's not like he's stepped forward to declare himself."

Joe stared down into his cup of coffee for a moment, then looked back up at her. "Maybe he never thought he needed to, Dix. You know, sometimes a man gets too comfortable with the status quo until something — or someone — comes in and shakes things up a bit." He raised the cup to his lips and took another sip.

"And maybe a woman gets weary of the status quo, Joe — especially when it's entirely unspoken! I don't want to live the rest of my life on memories and vague hopes." Her voice faded and her eyes brightened as Taffy came through the door and approached the desk.

"Dixie, my dear… You received the flowers, I see," he said with a smile.

"Yes, thank you, Taffy. They are lovely… they've really brightened my day. And yes… I would be happy to join you for dinner. I get off shift at 6:00." Dixie reached up to squeeze the hand he had held out over the desk. Her eyes met his and she quickly found herself getting lost in their depths.

"Ahem…"

Dixie startled and blushed when Joe cleared his throat, and she pulled her hand from Taffy's grasp. "Sorry. Taffy… this is Dr. Joe Early. Joe, this is Taffy Matthews. He's a friend of Roy's come to visit… all the way from Paris, in fact."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Dr. Early." Taffy said.

"Likewise, I'm sure." Joe shook Taffy's outstretched hand. Though Dixie could hear the barest hint of misgiving in Joe's voice, his tone was friendly enough.

A page called Joe to Exam 3 just as he took a third sip of coffee. He set his cup down on the desk. "Never fails… always three sips. Well, I'll leave you kids alone for now." And with a shake of his head, he hurried back to his work.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy leaned back against his pillows, exhausted and sore from his first session of physical therapy. He knew that his therapist, Nick, had begun working with him while he was still in the coma, gently manipulating his limbs, massaging them and keeping the muscles from tightening up. Today's session had not involved much more, though with Anton's assistance, Nick also had Roy work on balance sitting up in the bed. The effort had worn him out.

He hadn't felt the exhaustion this bad after his jaunt to the roof with Johnny a few days ago. Well… not right away, at least. After his talk with Anton, which was exhausting in itself, when he'd finally given in and accepted the morphine, he'd slept through the night and halfway into the next day.

But today, the adrenaline rush of an escape hadn't been there to keep him going, and he felt wiped out. Not so much sleepy — though he knew the dose of morphine he had coming would knock him out but good. Problem was, friends had been coming in a steady stream to visit him all morning… most recently, Johnny and Nita (and Calpurnia); but before therapy, Chet and Marco had come up. Chief Stanley and his wife Emily weren't far behind. He'd also seen Billy Folsom and Matthew Carter… and of course Andrew Carter and Newkirk and Anton had been there too. And it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

According to Jo, the families of the children they said he'd saved — a little girl named Sarah and a brother and sister named Luke and Hannah — had come by as well, bringing with them a couple of gift baskets that now sat on a counter across the room. Thankfully, Lisa had headed them off at the pass, explaining that he wasn't up to seeing any new faces at the moment. Maybe someday he'd agree to meet with them, but well… just now, everything was still too raw.

Try as he might, he remembered none of the incident that had landed him here. So many rescues over the years, seared into his memory, and this… his last rescue… was simply gone. He had a basic idea what had happened of course — his friends had filled him in, and he'd seen a couple of the newspaper articles they'd saved for him. But it was like it had happened to someone else… well… except for the very up-close-and-personal fact that he was now stuck in a bed at Rampart. Perhaps it was better that way. He had no real desire to remember the hours spent alone in that basement, buried under the rubble. Even so, he couldn't help wondering about it.

When he'd brought it up with Jo, she had leaned over and kissed him, then said softly, "Think of it this way, Roy… maybe not remembering is a gift." He knew she was right, and Doc Brackett said most likely, he never would remember. So why did it keep bugging him?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and made him cringe. He really didn't want any more visitors. But when Dixie stepped in with a fast food bag, his mouth started to water and he began to reconsider. He'd been cleared to resume a regular diet, but Rampart's offerings couldn't hold a candle to what he suspected that paper bag contained.

"Hi, Roy. I thought maybe you'd join me for lunch today." She set the bag on his table. "Johnny saw me on the way out — strangest thing, dressed up in that overcoat — and mentioned you had a craving, and he said you like the Double Double with extra spread… and that you don't like the fries. Which is just as well because this burger alone probably has more grease than you should have in a week."

"Thanks, Dix. Pull up a chair. Not sure what I did to deserve this feast, but I'm sure not complainin'!"

"You mean you prefer this to Rampart fare?" She winked. "Because if you'd rather, I can just fetch you a tray…" She sat down and passed him a strawberry milkshake. "Maybe your friend Taffy would like that burger."

Roy raised an eyebrow… something in her eyes when she said Taffy's name made him wonder. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't seen that same something in Taffy's eyes just the other day, or if the guys hadn't told him how Taffy'd been a bit dreamy lately… actin' like a kid with his first crush. But he would wait to ask her about it… just now wasn't the right time. Instead he decided to go along with the joke. "Oh, no you don't!" He pulled his burger close. "You don't give my In 'n' Out away to anyone!" He took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring it.

Dixie set her burger down and wiped her mouth with a napkin, then reached to squeeze Roy's hand. "It's good to see you smile like that," she remarked quietly.

"Like what?" He took another bite and then sipped at the thick milkshake.

"A real smile… it reached your eyes. Drove out those shadows we've all been seeing for the last few days."

"Guess I am feelin' better at the moment… had a headache before you came in, but it's gone now." He finished his burger in a few more bites, then leaned back in bed. "So Dix…" He scrutinized her for a moment, trying to decide if the time was right. _What the hell… might as well ask._ Tell me what's up with you an' Taffy. The guys say he keeps talkin' about you… an' your eyes lit up when you mentioned him a minute ago."

Dixie shrugged. "Oh… I don't know, Roy." But she also blushed and looked down at her fingernails, which Roy figured for a sign he was close to the mark. Finally, she looked up, and Roy thought her eyes had never looked quite so soft before. "Taffy Matthews is a very sweet, very kind gentleman whose company I greatly enjoy. I can't tell you anything beyond that just yet." She smiled at him. "And Roy… I can tell you're barely keeping those eyes open. How about we hang out the do-not-disturb sign for a while so you can take a nap? Lisa tells me it's been like Grand Central Station in here today."

"Pretty much." Roy stretched and yawned. "Sounds good to me, Dix. Thanks for lunch. Sure beats hospital food."

"Any time, Roy. Now… back to business. What's your pain level?" He answered honestly, gauging it at about a seven. Dixie fussed over him for a minute, checking and recording his vitals, and administering a dose of morphine. When she smoothed the hair out of his eyes, he felt a bit like a little kid getting tucked in by his mom.

For a fleeting second before his eyes drifted closed, he thought he saw tears forming in her eyes, but the morphine worked quickly and he was too groggy to ask her what was the matter.

He felt her squeeze his hand, but by the time she stepped away from his bed, he was sound asleep.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike Stoker stood outside Roy's door, hesitant to enter. He'd almost come to see Roy several times over the last few days since he'd heard Roy was awake. But each time he was just about ready to go, he'd found something else that urgently required his attention. The broken chain on Jacob's bike… the dead battery in Ian's hearing aid… evidence of a mouse in the kitchen…

Finally, late in afternoon, when he woke up from a long nap necessitated by a busy shift overnight, Beth had informed him in no uncertain terms that he was going to the hospital before he did anything else. "Everything else can wait, love. You need to see Roy." She had pushed a tin of pecan raisin cookies into his hands and shoved him out the door with a kiss and a gentle smile. "Give him our love."

And then he'd had to wait. A sign on the door directed him to visit the nurses' station before entering, and the nurse had explained that Roy was napping, but would likely be awake and ready for a visit before long. And so Mike had passed the better part of an hour in the waiting room, alternating between sitting in a hard plastic chair and pacing the floor, the tin of cookies clenched tight in his hand. And he'd almost bolted a few times.

In fact, he had finally made up his mind to leave — had just punched the elevator call button — when the nurse stepped out of Roy's room. Apparently she remembered him and why he was there, because she stopped him just before he stepped into the elevator. "Don't go, Mr. Stoker! He's awake now, and he'd like you to come in."

Mike took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Roy… up for a visitor?"

"Mike… I was hopin' you'd come by." Roy beckoned him in. "Sorry you had to wait… Lisa told me you'd been here a while."

Mike stepped through the door and took a seat. He opened the cookie tin and set it on the swivel table. "With love from Beth."

Roy snagged a cookie and took a bite, then gestured for Mike to help himself. "Delicious… thank her for me, will ya?"

"Yeah… sure thing," Mike said. He took a cookie for himself, more because eating gave him a reason not to say anything than because he was hungry. He had never been a talkative man, and he liked to consider his words carefully before speaking them. _Make every word count,_ his dad had always told him when he was a kid.

Before he could say anything, though, Roy jumped in. "Stop it, Mike."

"Stop what?" He took another bite of his cookie.

"I see the look in your eyes… you're blaming yourself. Well, it wasn't your fault, so stop already."

"It was my shift." He had already been over it with Beth and her logic had been unassailable, but Mike's conscience didn't pay much heed to logic.

"So you blame Johnny for the time you broke your arm when you covered for him, back when he got the flu?"

"Of course not, Roy… that's —" His voice faded and he sat back. "Point taken."

"It happens, Mike. Part of the job… a possibility we live with every day we walk into work. It stinks… but it's not your fault." Roy pushed the tin of cookies towards him. "Here… have another one."

"Thanks, Roy." His shoulders felt lighter than they had since the accident. "Wanna watch the game?"

"Rams playin'?" Roy reached for the remote.

"Nope… Raiders… against the Dolphins. Sorry."

Roy clicked on the television anyway. "Well, maybe we'll get to watch the Dolphins kick the Raiders' butts." He found the station, just in time for kickoff.

Mike laughed. "We can hope!" He snagged that second cookie and settled in to watch the game in companionable silence with his friend.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Note**

 ***For the uninitiated, a Double Double is the signature double meat, double cheese burger offered by the California burger chain, In 'n' Out. Dang… now I'm hungry.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in updating! This has been the summer of road trips for my husband and me; this time, we were on a real vacation and I didn't get as much writing time as I had expected. I'm leaving again on another trip tomorrow (and looking forward to getting home next week and having a break from traveling — but this time I'll be traveling alone and should have plenty of time to write).**

 **This chapter is a bit shorter than my usual. Originally, I had been going to end with more Taffy and Dixie and Kel, but I decided that might lessen the emotional impact. No worries — they will return in the next chapter, and I think you will enjoy what I have planned! The good news is, that means Chapter 12 is already well underway. I want to let readers know in advance, the last part of this chapter gets somewhat intense, as it deals with Roy's first meeting with Dr. Richardson, Rampart's resident expert in the newly-recognized (at that time) Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. To paraphrase a line often heard from Roy in Emergency episodes, I am not a therapist and I don't pretend to be. However, I have been present in loved ones' therapy sessions and I have consulted with a therapist on this chapter.**

 **Thank you as always to my wonderful beta readers, who give me great feedback and are helping make this story so much better than it would have been without them!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy awoke suddenly, his heart pounding and his breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He threw off his covers and was about to try to stand when an arm came over his chest to hold him down. He tried in vain to pull away. "Let me go! Gotta help Johnny!"

"Roy. You were dreaming. Johnny's fine." The calm, soothing voice steadied him, and now instead of pushing the hand away, he latched onto it. "Calming breaths now, and open your eyes."

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth, as he let reality settle in. _Rampart… building collapse… my leg..._ He blinked open his eyes to see Mike hovering over him. "Thanks, pal," he said quietly. "I'm all right now."

Three weeks after his injury, this scenario had become something of a routine. Roy's nightmares had eased off initially after he talked with Anton, but then they started up again with a vengeance. Sometimes he would try to get up before he could orient himself, and that's why his friends were taking it in turn to make sure he wasn't alone at night. Even Johnny had been cleared to return for an occasional night, with a solemn promise to instigate no more unapproved excursions.

Mike moved his arm and pressed the button to raise the head of Roy's bed so he was sitting up.

"Do me a favor, will ya?" Roy grunted. "Tell Brackett… I'm ready. I'll talk to Richardson."

Up to this point, he had refused whenever the suggestion was made that he meet with the psychiatrist. "I don't need a shrink," he would growl. After all, he'd managed after 'Nam, with just his mom and Jo and Gus-pup, and eventually, his work. A few nightmares and the occasional flashback didn't make him crazy, right?

But now the nightmares kept getting worse and he wasn't sure he could handle it this time — especially since he could no longer immerse himself in his work. It was time to admit that he needed help.

"You got it." Mike patted on his arm. "First thing in the morning when he comes on shift, I'll let him know."

"Thanks." Roy grabbed the remote and turned on the television, adjusting the volume down so it wouldn't bother his friend. This was another part of the routine — after a nightmare, Roy needed something mindless to help him relax. Eventually he would drift off again and would hopefully sleep the rest of the night without any more nightmares intruding.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Hey, Roy… time to wake up!" A shake to his shoulder yanked an unwilling Roy back to consciousness, or at least to semi-consciousness.

"Knock if off, Junior," he groaned. "Tones haven't sounded yet." He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but Johnny was persistent.

"C'mon, Roy… we're not at 51's. Nick'll be here soon to take you to therapy."

"Figures," Roy said with a yawn as he blinked his eyes open and looked around. Apparently, he had slept through the changing of the guard. Mike had left for work, and Johnny had arrived to go with him to PT. "For once I was havin' a good dream," he grumbled.

"Yeah? Tell me about it while you get dressed." Johnny tossed Roy a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

Roy pulled himself up with his good hand and got to work getting ready for the day. He'd become fairly proficient at dressing himself one-handed, but he would be really glad to get the cast off in a few more weeks. "First time I met Taffy… in 'Nam, couple weeks before I was captured. I was havin' a rough time… just a kid, really… not quite 19. We weren't officially in the war yet, but there were thousands of us over there in an advisory capacity. I enlisted on my 18th birthday and trained as a medic. Got sent over to help the docs train Vietnamese medics, and of course we ended up treatin' their wounded. Before I got over there, I had no idea what war was… the damage human beings could do to one another. It was really gettin' to me. Then Captain Rick Landers, one of the older docs on base, told me about this little Welsh chaplain and his orphanage, said I had to see it to believe it." He smiled faintly at the memory. "I resisted at first… told Landers I had no interest in spendin' my free afternoon with a religious nut. But he wouldn't let it go… kept talkin' about how happy the kids would be and how he could really use my help — he'd agreed to do medical checkups on a new batch of kids before the girls were sent to a convent in Saigon. Well, Landers finally looked me up and down and said, 'Corporal, I outrank you. You're coming with me and that's an order.'" Roy shook his head as he carefully leaned forward to inspect the dressing on his stump. "I was steamed, but I had no choice. Colonel Pinchuk backed him up. The Captain bought out all the chocolate bars at the PX and produced a Frisbee from somewhere…" He chuckled. "I think he lifted it from Jimmy Holden… and we signed out a Jeep from the motor pool and were on our way."

"Hang on… let me get you in the chair." Transferring to the chair was something Roy wouldn't be able to do on his own for a while yet, not until the cast was off and he could bear some weight on his right arm. For now, his therapy was focused on balance, keeping his remaining leg strong, and avoiding contracture in his right knee and hip. Roy hated every minute of it, and he'd cussed Nick out more than once. Nick didn't seem to care. In fact, Roy got the feeling he thrived on it. The angrier Roy got, the harder Nick worked him. By the end of a session, Roy was wiped out. Once he'd even dozed off in the wheelchair on the way back to his room. But he had to admit, the hard work made him feel better at the end of the day.

Johnny stuck his arms under Roy's armpits and lifted him, just as he'd done when they made their escape, then pivoted him and set him back down in the chair. "So… your dream?" he asked as he draped the blanket over Roy's lap.

"Yeah… well, we hadn't been at the orphanage more 'n a minute before the kids swarmed us. The boys all knew Landers pretty well… seems he'd been there before… and most of 'em went straight to him, practically bowled him over." Roy chuckled. "Guess he'd brought chocolate enough times they expected it. The girls hung back, most of 'em quiet and shy. But one little girl — Mai Thi, her name was — came right up to me. Couldn't have been more'n four years old. She tugged on my pants and raised her arms and I picked her up… and she didn't let me put her down all day. I wasn't much help to Landers after all, but he didn't mind. He said just lovin' on Mai Thi was my job and I'd better do it right." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Man… he knew just what I needed. Bein' with those kids… holdin' Mai Thi... An' that memory… it's part of what kept me goin' at Camp 208… I —" But his voice trailed off. He'd said more than he meant to.

Johnny eyed him, but didn't push for more details, for which Roy was grateful. Part of him felt guilty… Johnny only wanted to help. Roy didn't want to burden him with the knowledge of what happened to him… but maybe knowing would help him understand. "Listen, Junior," he said gruffly, unsure of himself and yet committing anyway, "I'm gonna talk with Richardson… not exactly sure when. But… well… if you wanna be there, I… I guess I'm willin'."

Johnny squeezed his shoulder and gave a brisk nod, and Roy thought maybe he blinked away tears. "You got it, Roy. I'll be there."

Roy nodded. "Thanks, Junior."

"Jo coming too?"

The question caught Roy off guard. On the one hand, he knew his wife had been waiting a long time for him to share… she'd been his rock since before he ever came home. She'd loved him without reserve, never giving him a chance to slip through the cracks like so many other vets. Homelessness, addiction, suicide… _There but for the grace of God go I,_ Roy thought. Jo had helped him bear the burden of the dark cloud that had overshadowed him ever since his return from the war; she kept it from completely overwhelming him. She could handle knowing what had happened. He needed to tell her. But dammit, the thought terrified him. He couldn't take seeing the pain in her eyes as her heart broke on his behalf. It would break him in a way the Cong had never managed. Johnny stared at him intently, expecting an answer, but Roy wasn't sure what to say. When Nick walked in, just shook his head and left it at that — he knew Johnny wouldn't push for an explanation in front of the therapist.

"Good morning, Roy… Johnny! Sorry I'm late… Kimmy had a meltdown when I dropped her off at preschool this morning." Nick was a single father with a seven-year-old son and a three-year-old daughter, and anyone who knew him knew how devoted he was to them. Even when their antics drove him nuts, his eyes still shone with pride whenever he talked about them, and he had proudly shared the folder of photos he kept in his wallet.

"Any delay to one of your torture sessions suits me just fine," Roy growled. "Let's get this over with."

Nick cackled, sounding for all the world like the Wicked Witch of the West, as he wheeled Roy into the hall. He affected a thick German accent. "Chust vait till you see vat tortures I haff prepared for you today!"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

While Roy napped after lunch, done in by his session with Nick, Johnny read. He'd picked up the book that Roy had thrown at him that first night — _Lonely on the Mountain —_ and quickly become engrossed. He generally eschewed westerns, uninterested in their stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans — sometimes noble, sometimes bloodthirsty, sometimes plain ignorant… but almost invariably a savage in need of taming by the white man — but L'Amour's use of language captivated him, drawing him in and compelling him to keep turning the pages.

"Hello?" The voice startled Johnny, pulling him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see a face peering into the room from the hallway. "My apologies… I knocked, but no one answered. I'm Dr. Keith Richardson… I'm here to meet with Roy DeSoto."

Johnny set the book down and stood. "Dr. Richardson." With a sheepish glance down at his right arm in its splint, he stretched out his left hand to shake instead. "John Gage. Roy and I are best friends… used to be partners at work… he invited me to sit in on your session with him." He gave Roy a sideways glance. "He's… um… pretty wiped out from PT, but he's been sleepin' a couple of hours now. Should I wake him?"

"I'm awake," Roy mumbled groggily. He blinked open his eyes and sat up. "Hullo," he said, looking up at Richardson. "Roy DeSoto."

Johnny could see the wariness in his friend's gaze. Before today, Roy had been adamant about not needing any help from Brackett's colleague, and the fact that he'd changed his mind and agreed to a session with Richardson told Johnny how very much his nightmares were bothering himself. Still, Roy clearly didn't like this. Richardson definitely had his work cut out for him.

Unfazed, the doctor took hold of Roy's wheelchair and brought it over to the bed. "If you don't mind, I think my office is more conducive to a good discussion than this room. I'd like to take you downstairs for our session."

Roy just shrugged. "Fine with me." He allowed Johnny to help him into the chair, but kept silent as they left the room and headed for Richardson's office.

Richardson didn't try to make him talk. Instead, he started up a conversation with Johnny. "What did you do to your hand?"

Johnny explained his injury and the two surgeries he had undergone… the first just a week after Roy was injured, and the second about a week and a half later. "I don't have much sensation in the hand yet, but the doc says give the nerves time to heal." He shrugged. "I'll be OK."

They took the elevator to the ground floor, and soon Dr. Richardson steered Roy's wheelchair through the doorway into his office and parked him opposite a large window. Outside, a Japanese maple with a profusion of bright red leaves dominated their view, along with a couple of bird feeders hung from its branches.

Johnny's eyes roved around the homey office as he took a seat on a worn leather sofa, at the end closest to Roy. Soothing natural shades dominated, the walls painted in a pale green, with a framed painting of a sandy beach and a couple of palm trees taking up much of one wall. The sofa wasn't much to look at, but it was quite comfortable, though Johnny imagined it would be too soft for Roy to sit in easily at this point. From a speaker in the corner came the recorded sound of waves lapping the shore, a nice complement to the painting. Behind Richardson's large cherrywood desk, several nicknacks were arrayed along the length of a shelf attached to the wall. In the middle, a tall bamboo vase, holding a bouquet of dried flowers, commanded attention.

One glance at Roy out of the corner of his eye showed Johnny that his friend's attention had been drawn to the vase as well. In fact he was staring at it, his mouth hanging slightly open, eyes wide, his good hand clenching the armrest of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles had gone stark white. "Roy? You all right, Pally?"

Roy didn't answer. Richardson quickly moved behind the desk and took the vase down, setting it out of sight, then came over to Roy. He crouched in front of Roy's chair but didn't touch him. "Roy. You're safe," he said in a calm, measured tone. "You're in my office at Rampart Hospital."

Now that the vase was out of sight, Roy's eyes darted back and forth without focusing on anything. Johnny reached for his wrist to check his pulse. He could tell it was racing, but Roy yanked his arm away before Johnny could get a count.

Richardson kept on talking, and gradually, Roy calmed. Then he gestured for Johnny to try again. "Roy, John is going to check you out now, get your pulse. You are safe."

This time, Roy didn't pull away. Instead of roving aimlessly, his gaze dropped to his lap. Johnny wrapped his slender fingers around his wrist and took the pulse. Still a little fast, but not too bad. Roy's fingers no longer clenched the armrest, but he was sweaty and his face was pale. "Sorry," he croaked.

"Why are you apologizing, Roy?" The crisis over, Dr. Richardson moved to the sofa, seating himself next to Johnny. He produced a small notepad and a pen from an inside pocket of his jacket.

Roy stared out the window, avoiding eye contact. "Didn't mean to flip out, but —."

Johnny leaned forward, eager to reassure his friend. "It wasn't —"

But Richardson cut him off with a hand to his arm. "Let's let Roy finish, John."

"The vase. Dao had one kinda like it on his desk… kept fresh cut flowers in it all the time. Probably needed 'em to keep the stench of the camp at bay. I saw yours… an' suddenly it was like I was back there… gettin' called to the Commandant's office… it was never a good thing."

"Were you called in there frequently?" Richardson set the notepad down next to him and leaned forward, listening intently.

Roy shook his head and wiped a hand on his blanket. "Couple of times. Got caught sneakin' out of my assigned hut… one of th' men in another hut was pretty sick an' needed a medic. Guards beat me, then brought me to the commandant… he gave me two days back in the tiger cage th' first time… three days the next."

" _Back_ in the tiger cage?" Richardson's eyebrow quirked upward.

"Yeah. I spent the first… oh… I don't know how long — weeks? months? The days all just ran together — locked in one. They were nasty things, built so you couldn't sit up proper, and you also couldn't quite lie down." He shuddered, and Johnny followed his gaze as it settled on a hummingbird at the feeder outside the window. "The day I got out… that's the day I keep relivin' in my dreams."

Richardson nodded. "Happened to me after Korea," he confided. "Served in an evac hospital and on the front lines. Came home to nightmares about what I saw there."

The doctor was staring out the window too, his gaze seemingly distant. But Johnny got the feeling he was actually watching Roy carefully. He also observed that now Roy's head had turned and his attention was fixed on Richardson. Johnny kept his mouth shut and sat back and listened.

"Yeah, sounds like what's happenin' to me," Roy said, and Johnny noted that his guarded expression had dropped away and he was making eye contact with Richardson now. "I was captured just a couple of months after I got to 'Nam. Camp 208 was a brutal place. It's been almost 20 years, but now it seems like when I go to sleep, I'm back there." His eyes went back to the hummingbird as he continued his story, detailing his recurring nightmare for Richardson and Johnny.

Johnny felt something crumble inside him as he listened to Roy's story. Everyone knew life had been hell for the POWs in Vietnam, but somehow he'd never really thought about what that might have entailed for his friend. Anger and sorrow and hurt exploded inside him, and his heart broke over what his friend had suffered. At the same time, his admiration for Roy swelled to practically bursting. What kind of strength had it taken for his friend — his brother — to survive that hellhole, to come back home and find a way to live again, to thrive even?

Roy kept talking. Johnny soon found he couldn't sit still while he listened. His fingers twitched and curled into fists, his heel nervously tapped the floor, and finally he just got up and started pacing.

It took a moment for him to realize that Roy had stopped talking and was staring at him. "You OK, Junior?"

"Uh… yeah," he said quietly, and he folded his lanky form back onto the sofa. "Sorry. Go on."

And Roy continued. He told about the squalor of the camp, the over-crowded huts, the rampant disease. He shared about Anton and Carter, and the hope they'd brought of escape. And then the escape itself — the trauma of having to shoot one of the soldiers trying to prevent them, of knowing he had taken a man's life, and finally coming home to JoAnne with a busted jaw, thankful that the injury gave him an excuse not to talk. It was all Johnny could do to stay sitting there, listening quietly, but he didn't want to interrupt again. He understood now why Roy hadn't wanted to tell him, why he had kept it bottled inside him all these years, why his eyes had grown so shadowed at the suggestion of Jo hearing the story too.

When he was finished, Roy sat quietly, looking pale and utterly spent. Johnny wasn't sure what to do, what to say. How should one respond to such a story? 'I'm sorry' didn't even come close. There were no words for something like this. Finally he got up again and moved to Roy's side and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Damn," he breathed out in a ragged whisper. "I never imagined."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy reached up to clasp his friend's hand. Johnny's concern touched him deeply, and he knew it was a good thing he had finally shared with him. "I know, Junior. It's OK." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling in a long slow sigh before he continued. For now, he directed his words to Johnny, almost forgetting that Richardson was present too. "When I got home, I had the nightmares all the time… saw it happening again every time I closed my eyes. But gradually they eased off. Never fully went away, but it got to where there were months in between. Now they're every night again, and they're gettin' worse. Mostly, it's just straight memories, whether the prison camp or tough rescues you and I were part of. Every once in awhile, though, my brain mixes it all up. Last night, I dreamed we were back at 51's, Johnny… called out to rescue a trapped kid. I was about to climb in the squad when suddenly I was back at Camp 208 and there you were in front of me, locked in one of the tiger cages. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't move an inch… like my feet were encased in cement. That happens a lot… dreams where I can't move, can't do anything but watch while someone I care about —" His voice broke off and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture from his eyes.

He turned anguished eyes to the psychiatrist. "It's gotta stop, Doc. I can't keep goin' like this, and I don't have months to wait for it to ease up… when I get home, my wife shouldn't have to sit up nights worryin' I'm gonna fall flat on my face if I try gettin' up in my sleep!"

Richardson had listened silently to Roy's recitation, taking notes and nodding from time to time. Now he looked up. "Roy, normally I would tell you this at the beginning of the session, but we got things a bit out of order today. I want to assure you that anything you say or do in this office will be kept in the strictest confidence." He eyed John. "And I expect anyone who attends a session with you will adhere to this as well."

"Of course, Doc," Johnny agreed. "Roy knows he can trust me with anything."

Roy nodded.

"Now… you are aware that I have talked with your wife, yes?" The doctor spun his pen absentmindedly between his fingers.

"Yeah… she told me."

"Would I be right in describing Mrs. DeSoto as a strong woman?" Richardson asked.

Thoughts of JoAnne brought a smile to Roy's lips. "The strongest… the very best."

"At my suggestion," Richardson continued, "she wrote you a short letter." He moved to his desk and took an envelope from a drawer. Written on the back of it, in Jo's handwriting, was Roy's name. "I'd like to share it with you now."

Roy leaned forward slightly, curious, but also afraid of what the letter might say. Had Jo decided she'd finally had enough? Had his injuries made him too much of a burden for her? His mind told him that couldn't be true, but dread still settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He reached for the envelope, but his hand stopped, trembling, and then pulled back. "I… I can't… You read it… please."

With a nod, Richardson settled himself back on the sofa, then opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. He cleared his throat and began to read.

 _My dearest Roy,_

 _I love you with all my heart and I am behind you 100 percent. When you came back from Vietnam, things were rough, but we got through it together. You survived and you fought hard to get your life back — to make the future we always dreamed of a reality. I know that you have the strength to do it again._

Richardson looked up from the letter and met Roy's eyes with a gaze that seemed to pierce right into his heart, then looked down and kept reading. Roy closed his eyes and listened, letting his wife's words soak into his heart.

 _Whatever you need from me to help you get through this, I will be there for you. One thing I've seen throughout all the years we've been married is, when we stick it out through the tough times, we discover richer blessings than we ever imagined. One look at DJ tells me this is true. I've spent more than half my life loving you, Roy DeSoto… whatever struggles may come our way, I'm going to keep loving you for the rest of it._

 _With love, JoAnne_

The rock in his stomach dissolved. Roy only realized how tight his muscles had been now when they loosened and he slumped forward. Ever alert, Johnny caught him. Roy clung to his best friend's arm and wept.

They allowed him to cry until his tears were spent. Gripping Johnny for support, he finally sat back up, conflicting emotions raging within him. On one hand, he felt embarrassed, ashamed of himself for losing control. On the other hand, the release of pent-up sorrow and fear had left him feeling lighter, freer somehow.

"Roy, before I call an orderly to take you back to your room, I'd like to discuss briefly what your goals are. What do you want to achieve in meeting with me?" Richardson's pen now hovered again over his notepad as he awaited Roy's answer.

Roy frowned and furrowed his brow as he considered his answer. "I want the nightmares to stop," he finally said. "But… I think that only scratches the surface." He nodded toward JoAnne's letter, which now lay on the coffee table in between him and Richardson. "I want to be the man my wife believes I am… to have that strength she talks about." He rubbed a hand across his eyes to stop the tears from spilling again. "Dammit… not makin' a very good start, am I?"

Richardson smiled. "On the contrary. I'd say you're making an excellent start." He took the envelope from the table and handed it over to Roy.

"Thanks, Doc." Roy wrapped his fingers around the envelope. He knew he would be reading Jo's letter over and over, that he would treasure her words as long as he lived.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: This last weekend, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend the 68th Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival in Tuskahoma, Oklahoma. The word Tuskahoma is an Anglicized version of Tushka Homma, meaning "Red Warrior." Used in this sense, the word red** _ **(homma)**_ **signifies honor and power and strength. I kept imagining Johnny in this setting. I also thought of Nita whenever I heard Choctaw hymn-singing. She would be right in there with the singers, and would never need to consult the hymn book for the words! I may just have to write a story sometime that involves Johnny and Nita taking the DeSotos to Oklahoma to attend this event.**

 **Thank you to my awesome beta readers, katbybee and Piscean6724, for their feedback, assistance, and constant encouragement! And thanks to all of you, my dear readers, especially those who leave reviews or send me messages. I try to respond to everyone!**

 **Marbo, I forgot to respond to you in my last note, so I'll do so now! I'm sorry that you reinjured yourself, and I hope your PT goes well! I'm so glad you like Calpurnia — I agree with you about dogs! We have four in my house! The youngest one (about 2 now) drives us nuts though — it seems her primary goal in life is to eat the world, in particular, sofas and shoes. The shoes we can put out of reach, but it's hard to keep her from nibbling on the sofa when we're out of the house; I may well need to use JoAnne to vent some serious frustration!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Glossary**

 **French - English**

 **Ma chérie - my dear, my sweetheart**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy sat on the balcony of his hotel room, smoking his pipe and ruminating over the last couple of weeks. The fragrance of cherry tobacco hung in the air around him, soaking into his senses. He hadn't intended to stay this long in Los Angeles, but a Miss Dixie McCall had managed to work her way into his heart and now he dreaded the thought of leaving.

He'd taken some ribbing from Peter and Andrew, of course. They'd been quick to figure out what was up. Peter caught on first. Oh, Taffy supposed he hadn't been all that subtle, what with the daily flower deliveries, his sudden penchant for dressing to the nines, and his clean-shaven, cologne-doused face.

Newkirk, still engaged in his war with Dixie over his smokes, had sworn up and down that he couldn't figure out what Taffy saw in such a crusty old bird as Nurse McCall. Taffy chuckled at the memory. Every day at the hospital, Newkirk would light up… and Dixie must have had some homing instinct or sixth sense that brought her along before he'd had more than a drag or two, to pluck the cigarette out of his hands and dispose of it post-haste while he stood there cursing and spluttering.

Then, a couple days ago when Taffy had driven Carter and Newkirk both to the airport and seen them off at the gate, the last thing Peter had done was lean in and slap him on the shoulder as he waggled an eyebrow. "Go get 'er, Padre!" he'd said. "Damn the torpedoes an' full speed ahead an' all that rot!" Then, with a wink and a wave, he'd shouldered his carry-on and headed down the jetway with Andrew at his side.

Now Taffy reached into his pocket and withdrew an antique ring box, opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond solitaire in a platinum setting. This stunning engagement ring had belonged to his mother; it had arrived early this afternoon, by express mail from Paris. A full week ago, he had contacted Phan, the Vietnamese orphan he'd adopted, and asked him to send it right away.

 _You old fool,_ he thought. _You've known the woman less than three weeks… You've never been one to rush into things like this._ Then again, here he was in his 70s and never married. He could hardly be accused of rushing. And he'd had enough time to consider what he wanted in a wife to recognize the right woman when he saw her. Dixie truly had the most beautiful soul he had ever encountered. She was like an oasis in the desert, a cup of cool water to a desperately thirsty man. For Dixie, he would even consider leaving his adopted home in Paris and moving to this busy, inelegant city of Los Angeles. He snapped the ring box closed and put it back in his pocket. Yes, this evening he would ask her. He had reserved a table at Miceli's, and as soon as she came off her shift, he would take her to dinner.

He patted on the box in his pocket, then got up and went into his room, sliding the door closed behind him. No need to wait until this evening to go to Rampart — he really should visit Roy, after all. And if he should happen to see Dixie, well, perhaps she would be ready for a break… coffee, or maybe a milkshake from the cafeteria. He checked his reflection, combed his fingers through his hair, and then hurried out the door.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kelly Brackett glanced at Dixie, then quickly returned his attention to the chart he was supposedly studying. He had actually discharged the patient twenty minutes ago and had been bringing the chart back to Dana when he saw the kid from Freddie Blooms coming in with another flower arrangement. "Delivery for Nurse McCall" was becoming a familiar phrase around here lately. Hell… with what that Welshman spent on flowers, he could probably cover the cost of the new pediatrics wing the Board wanted to build.

He had to go home eventually, didn't he, like his friends Newkirk, Carter, and Anton? If he would just get on the plane back to Paris, things could get back to normal around here. Taffy Matthews was just a distraction, right? Kel glanced up again at Dixie. She wore a blissful smile as she leaned in close and breathed in the fragrance of the roses… red roses this time.

Suddenly Kel had images in his mind of Dixie walking down the jetway with Taffy… leaving Rampart for the delights of Paris. The thought saddened him deeply. Rampart wouldn't be the same without her. _Hell, I won't be the same without her!_ Suddenly, his future seemed very bleak indeed.

He startled slightly at the light touch of a hand to his shoulder. "Did you expect her to wait, Kel?" Joe Early's softly spoken words felt like a punch to the gut.

"I've been a fool, Joe. All these years… I never thought I needed to hurry… never imagined the status quo might change." Kel sighed and tossed the patient file into the tray for Dana to deal with when she returned from her lunch break. "I guess it's true what they say… you never really appreciate what you had until you've lost it."

"What do _they_ know?" Joe scoffed, keeping his voice low enough that only Kel could hear him. "And since when did you roll over and surrender like this? C'mon, Kel… at least let her know what you're feeling. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

Kel's eyes narrowed as he thought it over. "You know, Joe… you're absolutely right."

His jaw set in determination, his gaze firmly fixed on Dixie, he was about to lope around the desk and to her side to talk with her, but his heart sank when she looked up, beaming — not at him, but at Taffy Matthews himself, walking up to the desk with a besotted grin on his face. "So much for speaking up," he mumbled to Joe. "I need to talk with Johnny and Roy anyway." He turned on his heel and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel found Johnny and Roy in the cafeteria with Nita and Jo and the DeSoto kids, enjoying milkshakes all around. DJ DeSoto sat perched on his godfather's lap, a teddy bear on the table in front of him and a dusting of crumbs on his chin. A platter half-filled with cookies sat on the small table — they looked much tastier than anything the cafeteria had to offer. Roy was looking much better today, though his eyes looked a bit distant. Still, he was clearly engaged with his family, happy to have them around him. Kel noted that Johnny had removed his sling and set it on the table, probably to make it easier to hold his godson. He decided to let the matter slide for now and headed for the cafeteria line instead. He could talk with the men later — he didn't want to disrupt the happy gathering.

He had intended to approach them over a week ago, but it had taken time to iron out the details with the County. Today he'd received confirmation, along with permission to develop a job description for two newly created positions in the paramedic training program. Of course, he intended Johnny and Roy to have the jobs, though officially he had to advertise for qualified applicants. But he had broad discretion in hiring, and he couldn't think of anyone better for the job than Gage and DeSoto. Well, he'd waited this long… another day wouldn't matter.

He got himself an apple and a cup of coffee and was headed for the door when Roy caught his eye and called to him. "Pull up a chair, Doc, and grab yourself a cookie before DJ eats them all."

"Gramma Winnie an' me made 'em for Daddy! Peanut butter 'n' chockit chip!" DJ grabbed a cookie and had it halfway to his mouth before he stopped suddenly and held it out instead. "Here, Doc!" He grinned sheepishly and ducked his head.

"Well, I can't resist an invitation like that, now, can I?" Kel considered the crowded table for a moment, then pulled another table up next to it and then dragged a chair over and sat down. He accepted the cookie from DJ with a wink and a smile. "Thank you, young man."

Chris helped himself to a cookie too. "Mrs. Canfield bakes the best cookies, doesn't she, DJ?"

The little boy bobbed his head. "Yep. An' she says they're even better now I'm helpin' her. She teached me her secret recipe."

"What's the secret part?" Megan asked. Kel noted how the young girl had her chair scooted up close to her dad's. Every so often, she lay her hand on his arm and looked up at him, as if to make sure he was still there.

DJ shook his head, his eyes dancing. "Can't tell! I pwomised!"

Megan's eyes flared, and though Kel had always thought she resembled her father most, in that moment she looked just like JoAnne. "Mo-om!" she appealed. "Tell him he has to tell us!"

"I wouldn't ask your brother to break a promise, and neither should you, Meggie," Jo scolded. "But DJ, honey, if you can't share something, don't talk about it at all."

Megan just rolled her eyes, but DJ looked quite stricken at the reprimand. "Yes'm," he whispered, and he hid his face against Johnny's shoulder. JoAnne had kept her tone quite gentle, but Kel remembered Roy saying once that the little boy was very sensitive about such things.

Johnny jostled him a bit and kissed him on the head. "Heads up, Nitoshi… you're not in trouble."

"Aren't you going to finish your milkshake, DJ?" Nita asked. At that, he sat up straight and nodded. He reached for the milkshake with both hands and pulled it close so he could slurp down the last of it through the straw.

JoAnne glanced at her watch and winced. "Time for us to get going," she said. "Megan has ballet and Chris has piano." She winked at Nita. "And we have our own plans, right?"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "What're the two of you up to?"

"Now, Roy… it's a secret," Jo said.

"Seems to me you just told our son, if you can't share somethin', don't talk about it," Roy growled, but his eyes twinkled. DJ giggled.

"You'll all find out soon enough," Nita said as she pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiped the crumbs from DJ's face. "Ready to go see Gramma Winnie?" she asked the little boy. "She's expecting you to visit today."

"Uh huh!" DJ hugged Johnny, then grabbed the teddy bear. "Bye, Unca Johnny! I'm gonna go see Gramma Winnie!" He hopped down to the ground, then ran over to give Kel a hug too. "Bye, Doc!" He gave his last and biggest hug to his daddy before heading out the door with his mom, his siblings, and his Aunt Nita.

Kel grabbed another cookie off the plate. "Do they bake like this every time he visits his Gramma Winnie?"

Roy chuckled and patted his belly. "Nope… and thank goodness! We'd all be about ten-feet wide if they did. I'm told she always has fresh cookies for DJ, though… I don't know where the boy puts it all!"

Kel eyed the splint on the table, then turned to Johnny. "You going to put that back on now?" When Johnny rolled his eyes, the doctor had to laugh. "Did you teach Megan that or did she teach you?"

"I think that feature comes standard with the 1972 model," Roy deadpanned. "No teaching required, though it doesn't kick in till they hit double digits. Doesn't explain why Junior here does it, though."

Johnny whacked Roy on the shoulder, then pulled the sling on. "Happy now, Doc?"

"Depends."

"On what?" Johnny grabbed a cookie and ate it in two bites.

Kel eyed the remaining cookies, then pushed the plate away. They were delicious, but he would forego temptation. "On what you fellows say to my proposal. I've been wanting to discuss it with you for a while now, but only just got the final OK from the County."

"We're listening." Roy's eyes had narrowed and he had put on a poker face.

"All right, here it is." Kel rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward and looked from Johnny to Roy. "Lately, I've been noticing a real need in the paramedic training program for instructors with the specialized experience the two of you have — not just doctors who spend their days inside the sterile walls of a hospital, but men who have been on the front lines. Men like you, with a wealth of experience to incorporate into the program. Men who know both the paramedic program and the fire department inside and out. The job would go beyond instructing, though… we also need a couple of strong liaisons between the Fire Department and the medical faculty of the program, who know how the system works and with good ideas how to improve it. With these needs in mind, we are creating two new positions. Now, the County requires that I advertise the jobs and accept applications for a predetermined time period, but I have been given broad discretion regarding whom to hire, as those hired will report directly to me, even though they'll officially be working for the Fire Department. And I can't think of anyone I'd want to hire more than the two of you. I always said it was a sad day when the paramedic program lost the pair of you to promotion. You'd be perfect in the role — I've seen you with trainees and know you have excellent teaching skills; you've both kept your certification current; and you've been with the program from its inception, so you know it backwards and forwards."

Kel stopped and looked again from Roy to Johnny and back to Roy, trying to gauge their reaction. Roy still had that poker face, but a gleam in Johnny's eyes told Kel that he was interested. "Well, men? What do you say?"

He watched Johnny's gaze slide to Roy, as if deferring to him. Roy cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his wheelchair. "Doc… don't you think the trainees would take one look at me and run the other way? I'd be a pretty stark reminder of what _could_ happen to them."

"In all honesty, Roy, yes, some would." Kel locked gazes with the man he had come to consider a close friend. "But the good ones… the ones we want in this job… would not. They have to be willing to accept all the risks that the job entails, and they might as well know up front what that might mean."

"Great," Roy growled. "So now I'm gonna be the poster boy for washed-up firefighters… the cautionary tale."

Kel huffed out a sigh. He'd always thought of Gage as the stubborn one, but DeSoto might well have him beat. "Roy —"

"Cut it out, Pally," Johnny said quietly. "That's not what the Doc is saying and you know it."

"Thank you, Johnny. No, that's not what I'm saying. Roy, what I'm saying is, we still need you and your expertise. The job is yours if you want it. Your applications would only be a formality. You'd keep your rank and current salary in the Fire Department, but you'd also receive a generous stipend from the training academy. And the County knows I want you. They are willing to work with your therapy schedules and to postpone the start-date of the positions for a few months."

Johnny puffed his cheeks out, then exhaled slowly. "Well, I think it sounds like a good deal, but I'd want to talk it over with Roy and with Nita before accepting. One thing's sure…" His eyes slid over to his erstwhile partner again. "I wouldn't want to do it with anyone but Roy."

"That makes sense. Why don't you talk it over and get back to me in a few — " Kel stopped short at the sight of Dixie and Taffy walking into the cafeteria arm in arm. He groaned quietly and would have gotten up to leave, but Taffy brought Dixie over to a table and pulled out a chair for her, and he would have had to walk right past them. He pulled in his shoulders and hunched forward a bit in hopes that maybe they wouldn't notice him.

"What's wrong, Doc?" Roy had lost the acerbic tone and now just sounded concerned.

"Yeah, Doc? What's up?"

"Nothing… just… hand me another one of those cookies, will you?"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy pulled out the chair for Dixie and then carefully pushed it back in after she had been seated. "What would you like, my dear?"

"A vanilla milkshake, please… with whipped cream and a cherry." She smiled up at him and he felt his heart pound.

"One vanilla milkshake, whipped cream and cherry, coming right up." He felt as if the ring were burning a hole in his pocket, but he had to wait for the right moment, and that wouldn't be here. He patted her on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for a moment, and then bent to kiss her on the cheek. Then he straightened and strode through the cafeteria. He was glad to notice Roy and Johnny there with Dr. Brackett. Roy looked good. Brackett, though… Taffy wasn't sure what to think about him. The doctor looked for all the world as if he were trying to hide! He knew, of course, that once upon a time, Brackett and Dixie had been what Americans called "an item." But that had ended a long time ago, according to Dixie, and they were just good friends now. Well, Taffy wouldn't make an issue of it. He just nodded and said a pleasant, "Good afternoon, gentlemen," as he passed by.

Thankfully, the cafeteria wasn't busy at the moment, and Taffy was able to make his order quickly — a vanilla milkshake for his lady and strawberry for himself, each topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. In a matter of minutes, he was carrying the tasty treats back to the table and setting Dixie's down in front of her. "Voila." He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

He had hardly taken two sips from his milkshake when a candy-striper trotted into the cafeteria and made a beeline for Dixie. "Excuse me, Nurse McCall, but I was told to find you. A telegram was delivered for a Mr. Matthews… it's marked urgent. Dana told me you would know — "

"I'm Mr. Matthews," Taffy spoke up. Dixie nodded and the girl handed him the telegram. "Thank you, young lady." He smiled apologetically at Dixie. "Pardon me a moment, please." He smiled softly at her, then turned his attention to the telegram:

TAFFY COL HOGAN NEEDS YOU STOP PNEUMONIA STOP STUBBORN STOP NO HOSPITAL STOP CALL ME TO ARR FLT DTLS STOP ANDREW

His heart sank. Colonel Hogan was far too stubborn for his own good, but he was one of Taffy's boys… just like Roy, just like Andrew and Peter and Anton and a host of other men Taffy had taken into his heart over the years. But the timing… well, frankly, it stank. But Andrew would not have asked him to come if the need were not truly urgent.

He looked up from the slip of paper to meet Dixie's worried eyes. "I am so very sorry. I have to cancel our dinner plans… one of my boys needs me, and I need to catch a flight to Washington as soon as possible." His hand went to his pocket to feel the bulge of the ring box inside and he gave a heavy sigh. Well, Miceli's wasn't happening, but they were here together now, and his heart was bursting with the need to ask his question before taking his leave.

"My dearest Dixie," he said softly as he gazed into her eyes. He wondered vaguely just how to describe their shade of green, but quickly brought his attention back to the subject at hand. Suddenly his mouth had gone dry and he wasn't sure he would be able to get the words out. He blinked his eyes shut for a second and cast a silent prayer heavenward, then looked at her again. "This is not the way I had planned this. Dixie, I don't want to leave you just now, but I hope you'll give me reason to return." He pushed back his chair and stood up, then dropped to one knee in front of her. Pulling the ring box from his pocket, he opened it and held it up. "Will you marry me, dearest?"

She gasped softly. He wasn't sure if it was from delight or dismay or disbelief. Her eyes were large and he thought he saw tears beginning to form. "Taffy, I… we… haven't known each other very long."

"I know." He returned to his seat and set the ring box on the table, then leaned forward to take her hands in his. "Barely two weeks. And yet, I feel that we have come to know each other quite well in that time, and I know that I have come to love you deeply. Dixie, I had almost given up ever finding a woman to share my life with, and then I met you. It… was almost like I recognized you at first glance as… well… the missing part of my heart, if you will allow me to wax sentimental." He pushed the ring box toward her. "Keep this for now. It belonged to my mother. Think about what I've asked. I will return as soon as I can to hear your answer… and if you are willing, I will place this ring on your finger then." He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it, allowing his lips to linger for a moment before he looked once more into her beautiful wide eyes. "Until then, _ma cherie,_ farewell."

Without a backward glance, though his heart ached at the parting, he strode from the cafeteria, crumpling the telegram and stuffing it in his pocket as he passed through the door.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie watched Taffy go. Her heart was racing and the back of her hand tingled where his lips had touched her. She rubbed at the spot, then gathered up the skin between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it hard. "Ouch!" No, she wasn't dreaming. Besides, the ring box — what a beautiful box; it had to be an antique — was sitting there on the table next to her milkshake. She picked it up and stared at the ring inside. Exquisite.

Only then did she become conscious of the stares. She felt them from all around. Everyone in the cafeteria — thankfully, not too many people at this time in the afternoon — was looking at her. She glanced around furtively, uncertain what she should do. The feeling was wholly unfamiliar — Dixie had a reputation for being cool and confident, with a ready response on the tip of her tongue in any situation. But now words eluded her. And… oh no… for the first time since she'd come in with Taffy, she noticed Kel and Roy and Johnny sitting across the room. They were in a corner toward the back, so she had overlooked them at first, but now she saw them, and from the looks on their faces they had most definitely witnessed Taffy's proposal.

Roy stared at her, his mouth agape, his eyes wide; Johnny was grinning to beat the band; and Kel… oh, poor Kel. The man looked positively downtrodden. His shoulders were slumped and his lips turned down in a scowl and the hurt in his eyes… well, Dixie could see that from all the way across the room.

She quickly closed and pocketed the ring box, then took a final sip of her milkshake. She couldn't manage any more. Even though she'd hardly had any, she was just too jittery to have an appetite. Without a word to anyone, she stood up, grabbed the tray and carried it to the trash bin, then hurried out the door and down the hall toward the nurses' lounge.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Wow, sometimes this story takes me in directions I never expected! I make plans, and then the characters take it in mind to do their own thing in spite of me.**

 **When you take a minute to write a review, how about you let me know whether you're Team Taffy or Team Brackett? Dixie hasn't quite told me what she's going to do. Of course, I make no promises to go with what the majority of you say — I'm waiting to hear from Dixie on the matter. Right now, she is seriously considering cashing in her chips, settling herself under a beach umbrella in the Caribbean with a margarita, and swearing off love altogether.**

 **Thank you to all those who have reviewed so far! I try to respond to everyone when I can. Marbo, you'll find the answer to your questions about what Nita and Jo are up to in this chapter. I think you'll like it, though perhaps it is not what you expected. I hope your PT goes well this week!**

 **Thanks also to my beta readers, Katbybee and Piscean6724. Your encouragement really keeps me going. I love you both! Kat, you've been a great source of ideas when I've felt stuck, and your idea of including the song from South Pacific in this chapter was PERFECT!**

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"Did we really just see what I think we saw?" Johnny stared wide-eyed after Dixie's retreating form. "Did Taffy just propose to Dixie?"

"He sure did." Roy chuckled.

"But then why'd he just walk out? I mean… it didn't look like Dixie refused him or anything. I don't —" Just then, Johnny noticed Dr. Brackett's ashen face. "Hey Doc, you OK?"

"I'm fine," Brackett snapped. "I need to get back to work… um… let me know your decision by the end of the week." He rose abruptly and stalked out of the room.

Johnny shook his head as he let out a long, low whistle. "Well, whaddaya think of that? I guess we all knew Taffy wasn't the only one sweet on Dixie. Ya know, I never thought of Rampart as a soap opera setting. I'm… um… not sure who to root for. I mean, Taffy's a good fella and all, but can you imagine Dixie leaving us to go live in Paris?!"

Roy shrugged. "He might move here."

"Maybe." Johnny drummed his knuckles on the table as he thought. "Still, there're also loyalties to consider. We've known Brackett an awful long time… we owe him a lot, too."

"Well, as to that," Roy grunted. "I've known Taffy longer… and if not for him, I don't think I'd be alive right now."

"Yeah, yeah… I guess you're right." Johnny was silent for a long moment. "Ya know, Roy… I think maybe we've got this backwards… tryin' to figure out who to root for an' all."

"You're the one who started it, ya know. But go on, Junior. I'm all ears."

Johnny leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on Roy. "Seems to me, the person we oughta be rootin' for is Dixie. Dr. Brackett an' Taffy… they'll be just fine eventually, whatever Dix decides. But Dix is the one who has to make the choice… and that's gonna be tough."

"Well, you're right, I guess. But I also think we shouldn't be speculating. It's their business, not ours."

Roy's mild reproof stung a bit, but Johnny couldn't really argue with him. He shrugged up a shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He started drumming on the table again. "Listen, Roy… let's talk about Brackett's offer instead. I think we should take it. We could be partners again!"

"I don't know, Johnny…" Roy rolled his eyes. "Seems to me like a way of settin' two broken firefighters off to the side and tryin' to make it sound good."

Johnny responded with a vehement shake of his head. "No way, Roy. They don't do that and give you what amounts to a raise — even if they do call it a stipend. And you know Brackett wouldn't do that to either one of us. He's right — we are good instructors! And we've had all sorts of great ideas for improving the paramedic program that we'd finally be in a position to implement… or at least to push for." He patted his good hand on his sling. "I sure hope I'll get full use of this hand back… but even if I do, I think this new job sounds right for me. But only if we're workin' together again. You have to do what feels right for you… but at least think about it, Roy."

Roy heaved a long sigh. "Fine, Junior. I'll think about it. I have to talk with Jo, too, see what she thinks." He grunted. "I sure as hell can't go back to the firehouse, so maybe this is the next best thing." His eyes went to the clock on the cafeteria wall. "Well, I'm supposed to meet Dr. Richardson upstairs in a few minutes. Think you can manage to get me there, or should we look for an orderly?"

"No need for that." The psychiatrist had arrived without either of them seeing him, but now he stepped into Johnny's line of sight. "Nurse Hayden told me you were down here, Roy, so I figured I'd just come get you for our appointment. John, will you be joining us today?"

Johnny shook his head and held up his injured hand. "Sorry. Appointment with Dr. Valdez. Then Chief Stanley's picking me up and taking me over to HQ. They've got me working dispatch part-time starting this evening."

"See ya later, Junior. Hope your appointment goes well."

"Thanks, Pally. I'll see you tomorrow."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A light shudder ran through Nita as she looked out over the empty lot. The defunct vineyard had once belonged to Roy's grandparents. The land had passed to Roy and his younger sister, but the vineyard had shut down back in the 60s. She gripped the steering wheel of Roy's pickup truck tightly with her left hand while her right hand rested on the gear stick. She had wanted to learn to drive in the station wagon, which had an automatic transmission, but Jo insisted she start with the stick shift. Nita had found it daunting at first, but Jo was a patient teacher who remembered her own struggles when her mother-in-law had taught her to drive.

"My mother believed that women shouldn't drive," Jo had explained over tea when she first presented Nita with the idea months ago. "I was supposed to depend on men to shuttle me around — at their convenience, of course. But Mama DeSoto convinced me that my mother's viewpoint was ridiculous, that I needed to be able to take care of myself, and that included driving." She chuckled. "Didn't take much convincing — my mother and I had a terrible relationship back then. It got a little better over the years, especially after Chris was born, but she never really accepted Roy until just before she died."

Nita had sensed there was a greater story there, but Jo hadn't been interested in telling it just then. Instead, she had pulled out a driver's manual and set it on the table between them. "You need to learn to drive, Nita… just like I did, and I thought you might enjoy making a surprise of it for Johnny. I'll help you study and once you've got your permit, I'll teach you." Just one week before Roy's accident, Nita had taken the test to get her learner's permit. Because of Roy's injuries, the driving lessons had been put on the back burner until a couple weeks ago. But since then, they'd taken place almost every day.

The effort had been made easier since Nita and Johnny had been spending their weekdays in Los Angeles, sometimes staying with Nita's brother Billy and sometimes at the DeSoto house. Nita's cousin and his wife had returned home after Johnny's first surgery, but their friend Tex had finally worked out his problems with Immigration and Johnny had promptly hired him as a ranch hand. The Gages knew their stock was in good hands with the man who had helped save Nita's life the previous year.

And so, here Nita was on a Tuesday afternoon, sitting at the wheel of Roy's pickup truck. She wasn't sure what Roy would think of her learning to drive in his vehicle, but JoAnne insisted he wouldn't mind. At this point, Nita hadn't actually started the engine. She was just practicing moving the stick through all the gears. Jo said she needed to do this until it was second nature. "First… second…" She listed each gear under her breath as she moved through the positions.

"Good," Jo said after multiple repetitions — Nita had lost count how many. "OK… now push the clutch in… remember, all the way to the floor. Then put it in neutral and turn the key."

Nita took a deep breath as she stepped down on the clutch. The first time she'd done this, she'd forgotten the clutch and put it in first instead of neutral, and the vehicle had lurched, then stalled out on her. She hadn't made either mistake a second time, but the possibility still made her nervous. She held her breath as she shifted to neutral and turned the key, then exhaled in a long sigh when the truck started smoothly.

"Good job." Jo patted her on the shoulder. "Relax, Nita. You're doing great. Now, step on the brake, keep the clutch down, and shift into first. Take your foot off the brake, then gently release the clutch and at the same time, gently step on the gas pedal with your right foot."

Jo had told her the steps a thousand times now, but Nita had never managed to put them together exactly right. How did Nashoba make it seem so easy?! She could feel the muscles in her back and shoulders tighten as she shifted into first, then slowly released the clutch and simultaneously pressed on the gas pedal. For the very first time, the truck didn't lurch or stall or make a horrible noise! It purred like a kitten as it crept forward.

"You did it!" Jo seemed to be as thrilled as Nita at her accomplishment. "Now, give it a little more gas. Let's drive around the lot a little!"

Bolstered by her success, Nita gradually increased her speed. Soon, Jo had her shift into second gear. Shifting while in motion scared her, but she managed it without stalling. She had begun to feel how the vehicle responded to her, almost like her horse, Jesse. After the third round of the lot, her smile stretched from ear to ear. "I think I've got it, Jo!"

Her friend laughed. "You've definitely got it! Want to try taking us to the dance studio to pick up Meggie? There's a big parking lot and it's almost always empty."

Nita gulped back the fear that lurched in her heart at the idea of driving this big machine anywhere other than the empty lot. What would Roy say if she wrecked his pickup? What if she hit somebody? Uncertain, she slowed. She needed a moment to sit and think without having to keep all her concentration on driving. This time the truck bucked a little, then stalled, when she forgot to hit the clutch before shifting back to first. She wished she could shrink down and become invisible.

Certain that Jo would have changed her mind, Nita opened the door and was about to hop down and move around to the other side, but a warm hand on her shoulder stopped her. "You can do this," Jo said. "I have faith in you, Nita. Listen, it's not a busy time of the day, and you can stay off the main streets for the entire drive. That means your top speed will be 25 miles an hour. Maybe you'll shift into third, but second should be fine the whole way. When we get to the studio, you can stop at the far end of the parking lot. I'll take over from there and park it."

Nita nodded. She heard Nashoba's words run through her mind. _When did you ever let fear stop you from trying to do something good?_ Of course, he hadn't been talking about driving. He had been encouraging her to go ahead and work for her GED. That certificate would bring her one step closer to fulfilling her childhood dream of becoming a nurse. _The way I figure it,_ her husband had said, _one of the reasons God put me in your life was so I could help you reach for those dreams you thought you had to give up on._ And then he'd smiled and swooped her up in his arms and kissed her.

Thoughts of Nashoba and his crooked grin filled her with confidence. She _would_ get her GED and she _would_ learn to drive. She glanced at JoAnne. "Thanks. I'll do it." She started the truck again, and once more, it started smoothly. Then she spoke each step aloud as she did it. Soon, she was driving around the crumbling old storage shed and out onto the street. She drove slowly but surely, following Jo's directions all the way back to the dance studio. When she got into the parking lot, sure enough the corner furthest from the building was practically empty. Nita stopped and put the truck in park, then switched seats with JoAnne.

"You're amazing, Nita!" JoAnne said as she climbed in and set the truck in motion again. "It took me a month to get this far, and it's barely taken you two weeks. We still have a lot to do… like parallel parking and highway driving and the like, but before you know it, Johnny will be getting you your own car."

"Oh no!" Nita gasped. "I don't want him to spend that kind of money on me."

Jo laughed as she turned into a parking spot close to the main entrance. "If I know Johnny, he won't mind a bit. In fact… it will be good for you to have your own car. You might need it."

"Oh, but he works so hard. We have his Jeep, and he's got his motorcycle. That is enough. It's more than we ever had when I was a child." Nita felt her cheeks grow warm. She knew that Johnny enjoyed spoiling her, but it always made her feel guilty.

"Nita." Jo patted her on the arm. "The Jeep won't work well for driving the babies around, and besides, Johnny uses it to get to work. You're going to need a dependable car, and he will tell you exactly the same thing."

Nita cracked a slight smile. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "I couldn't exactly drive the twins around on the motorcycle!"

"Now that would be a sight to see!" JoAnne laughed. "Come on… let's catch the tail-end of Meggie's class. She'd love for you to see her dance!"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike yawned and rubbed at his eyes, then bent once again over the transcript he'd been reading. A moment later, he reached for his mug and gulped down a mouthful of the sludge that passed for coffee at HQ. At least he knew the caffeine would kick in quickly. When he had talked with Beth about joining the arson investigation team, he'd envisioned combing through the debris of the apartment building and interviewing witnesses and examining evidence in the lab. But by the time he'd come onto the team, most of that had been accomplished. What remained, for the most part, had been a lot of deskwork, and the dullest of it had fallen to the team member with the least experience… Mike.

At least he still spent half his work hours each week on duty at Station 51. Chief Stanley had suggested he split his shifts with Captain Otis Moody, who had just come off the injured roster, but was supposed to ease his way back into full-time work. When he wasn't on shift at 51's, Mike was either in fire science classes or his butt was glued to the chair in this office with a stack of transcripts about six inches high in front of him. If he stuck with it, eventually he would be the one out doing the active work, but for now, this was it… his on-the-job training. Thankfully, he was still pulling full pay and the department had subsidized his classes, so the financial hit he had worried about had not materialized. Beth could still be home with the boys. Mike wasn't home as much as he would have liked, but that was par for the course. He yawned again, then interlaced his fingers, palms outward, and stretched his arms as straight as he could.

"If you're that tired, maybe you should call it a day. It's past quitting time, you know."

Mike looked up to see his immediate supervisor, Chief Ken Johnson, standing over his desk. "You're still here, Chief," he observed.

Ken laughed. "I'm always here."

Mike pushed the papers away and sighed. "Can't go home yet. I really think I'm getting close… like… maybe I've got something, but I'm not sure I trust myself to be right."

Ken's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "Wow, Michael. I've never heard you string so many words together at once before!"

Mike chuckled. "Happens sometimes."

Ken pulled up a chair and took a seat. "When you've got something to say, Michael, I want to hear it. I've been paying attention to you, and one thing I've realized… when you do speak up, you make it count. I consider you a great addition to this team, and I trust your instincts. So, talk to me. What are you looking at?"

Mike took a deep breath. _Might as well go for it,_ he told himself, then grabbed the file he'd set to the right of his transcripts. He opened the folder and pulled out a photograph of the crowd that had gathered to watch the firefighters as they battled the blaze that had proved so devastating. He pointed to a fellow in the front, wearing a Raiders jacket and a ball cap with the brim pulled way down, almost as if he were trying to hide behind it. "See this guy? He gave us an interview. He claimed to be a resident, but I was looking back over the list the landlord gave us, and it doesn't add up. He gave the name Kirby Jefferson… There is a Jefferson family among the residents, and that family has a Kirby… but get this, he's only two years old! And apparently, they were out of town during the fire."

The Chief pursed his lips as he looked over the list of residents and then back at the photograph. "I guess this was overlooked because the names match up… but everyone else missed the age discrepancy. Maybe the kid was named for a relative… he could've been housesitting for them?"

Mike paged through the transcripts until he found the one that would answer the chief's question. "Here it is… Tina Rodriguez… age 15… said the Jeffersons hired her to collect their mail until September 15. They wouldn't hire a neighbor kid if they had this guy staying there."

"Well done, Michael. Well done." Chief read over the transcript and looked at the photograph again. "Do we have any contact info for this so-called Kirby Jefferson?"

Mike shook his head. "No. Only the address at Sunny Estates… and that's no good now."

"All right… well, considering the name he gave, sounds like he knows the Jeffersons. Pull his interview transcript and then see if you can find contact information for the Jeffersons. Who's the head-of-household?"

Mike's eyes lit up, pleased that the Chief considered his discovery worth looking into… and also glad he already knew the information he'd just been asked to find. "Marita Jefferson. Single mother. We don't have an address or phone number because she was out of town when the fire occurred and was never interviewed. But she works at ABC Preschool, in Carson on Arlington and… um… 238th. I imagine we could find her there, or at least get contact information there."

Ken shook his head slowly. "Excellent work, Mike. You're with us tomorrow morning, aren't you?"

"Yessir. I won't be on shift at 51's again until Friday."

"Excellent. How would you like to get away from this desk for a while tomorrow?" Johnson set the papers down on the desk and leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"Sure, Chief. That sounds really good."

"All right, then," Johnson sat up straight again, then stood. "Be here at 8:00 a.m. sharp. We're going to visit ABC Preschool. If Ms. Jefferson isn't at work, we'll hope they can help us track her down. Now, go home and get some rest, spend some time with your family. But do take a little time tonight to put together a list of questions for Ms. Jefferson. We'll go over it together before we set out tomorrow."

"Yessir, Chief!" As Johnson strode out of the office, Mike watched him out the door, stunned. Before he gathered his things to head home, he picked up the phone and dialed Beth. "Honey? Have you started dinner yet? No? Good… get all dressed up and tell the boys they can fend for themselves tonight. I'm headed home and I want to take my best girl on a date."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie sat in the nurse's lounge, staring at the ring Taffy had given her. She'd been kept busy for the rest of her shift, so she hadn't had time to think about it, but now her shift was over and she had nothing but time. The very thought of Taffy on his knees, popping the question, left her feeling a bit lightheaded. She wasn't sure she trusted herself to drive home. She slid the ring onto her left ring finger and studied it carefully. It fit perfectly, as if it were made for her.

"So you've made up your mind, have you?"

Dixie looked up to see Kel. He strode across the lounge to the coffee pot, got himself a mug from the cabinet, and poured a cup. Then he joined her at the table. She snatched the ring from her finger, placed it back in its box, and snapped the lid shut. "Just… thinking."

Kel sipped from his coffee and then set the mug back on the table. He looked down at his hands for a moment, then raised his chin and met Dixie's gaze straight on. Dix could tell he was upset. She could see it in the set of his jaw, his thousand-yard stare, the shadow that had settled over his face.

"Kel, I — " She stopped, uncertain what to say, searching for the right words.

"Do you love him, Dix?"

The question caught her by surprise, and she wasn't prepared with an answer. "I… well… he's a good man, Kel. He would be good to me."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you love him."

She shrugged. "I only just met him. I can't really say I love him… yet. But… I think I could get there."

His hand came down on hers on the table and she gasped slightly at his touch, but she didn't pull away. His eyes locked on hers and held her gaze captive. "Dixie… we… um… need to talk. I haven't got a dozen roses or a fancy ring to offer, but… will you just have dinner with me?"

She tried to speak… to tell him yes, but somehow her mouth was suddenly stuffed with cotton or something, because she couldn't get a word out. So she just nodded.

"Good. I just came off shift, so… we could go now if you're ready?"

She nodded again, but then looked down at herself and suddenly her tongue was loosed. "Like this, Kel? I'm a mess."

"I don't know, Dix." He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "You look like a million bucks to me."

Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, she laughed nervously and glanced away. "More like a rusty nickel, but OK… let's go." She deposited the ring box in her purse and Kel escorted her from the lounge, one hand lightly touching the small of her back.

Kel wasn't sure when the last time was that he and Dixie had come to The Velvet Slipper together. Surely it wasn't the time the pregnant woman came in and they'd delivered her baby, then had to go back to work without ever eating because their break was over. He sought his memory, but couldn't think of a time since.

Apparently, Dixie's thoughts were running the same way his were because she chuckled as they approached the door. "I sure hope this doesn't turn out like last time we were here… I mean, it was satisfying, delivering that baby. But I was hungry all day!"

Kel stopped just in front of the door and pivoted to face her. "Dix… maybe we should order take-out and then find someplace where we know we won't be interrupted." _Damn, but I want to kiss her right now!_ He couldn't stop the thought, but he did manage to stop himself from giving into it. The timing wasn't right. Now that he'd determined to talk to her, he knew he had to take things slowly and carefully or he might just drive her right into Taffy's arms and all the way to Paris.

She nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Um… how about getting a pizza at Antonelli's and taking it to my place?"

He hadn't wanted to suggest her apartment, but since she'd done so, Kel was inclined to agree. At least they were unlikely to have any patients needing attention come wandering in!

Thirty minutes later, Kel was opening a bottle of wine and pouring them each a glass, while Dixie fetched plates from her china cabinet. Finally, they sat across from each other at the small dining table, a loaded thick-crust pizza in its box between them. Kel served Dixie a slice, then took one for himself.

He ate a few bites as he gathered the courage to speak his mind. At last, he set his pizza down on the plate and wiped his hands and face with his napkin. "Dixie, I've been an idiot. I let myself get comfortable with the status quo and figured we could just go on like that forever. And now… well… now that status quo has been shaken up a bit." He took a sip of his wine as he sought for his next words. "Dixie, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. But before you make your decision about Taffy's proposal, I need to tell you what I'm feeling." He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he fixed his eyes on hers. "Dixie, I love you. I've loved you for years." There. He'd said it. He sought her face for any indication that she welcomed his declaration, that she perhaps shared his feelings.

He couldn't tell. Her expression was enigmatic. In fact, she could give the Mona Lisa a run for her money. "Dix?"

She pushed her plate away, and 'enigmatic' soon made way for 'annoyed.' "After all these years, now you tell me?" Her voice rose simultaneously in volume and tone. "Why now, Kel? Why wait so long?"

A dozen answers ran through his mind, but they all seemed like feeble excuses. _We were focused on our careers… we were both too busy… I thought you were happy with how things were… I thought we had plenty of time for that later…_ He finally settled on the only answer that rang true. "Like I said, I was an idiot. I never should have waited. I never should have put off telling you. I… I think I got caught up in resentment, back when you were pushing the paramedic program and I was opposing it. It took almost losing you for good to show me that I was wrong. But even though I got past that resentment, I… never did what I should have to make things right between us again. I just… put our relationship on the back burner and let everything else take precedence and I was wrong and I am so very sorry." He wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed.

She pulled away and started clearing the table, even though the pizza was still mostly untouched. "You should go, Kel. I'm sorry… I need time to think about all this. I've… got about a week of vacation on the books. I'm going to use it. The nurses' schedule is already worked out for the next week and Betty can manage anything else that comes up." She tugged him up from the table and herded him to the door, grabbing his jacket from the chair where he'd tossed it earlier.

Just before she pushed him out into the hall, though, she suddenly threw her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her. He stroked her hair and bent to plant a quick kiss on the top of her head, then pulled free of her grasp and willed his feet to carry him down the hall.

Before he'd reached the elevator, he was kicking himself. Maybe that hug meant she really wanted him to stay? Maybe she just wanted to see if he really meant what he said? The elevator door opened, but Kel wasn't there to step in. He had headed back down the hall to Dixie's door. But when he arrived, the door was closed and locked, and she didn't open to his knock. From out in the corridor, he could hear the faint strains of a Broadway tune playing on the stereo. _I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair…_

He didn't wait for the elevator again. He took the stairs, two at a time, desperate to get out of there. Hell, he had vacation on the books too, and right now his sense of duty warred with his need just to get away from everything and everyone that would remind him what a fool he'd been. He'd lost her, that much was certain now. She would marry Taffy and move away… or Taffy would move here and she would stay at Rampart. It didn't really matter which — whether he was confronted each day by her presence or by her absence, for the rest of his life he would face the consequences of his own stupidity.

 _Unless I just get the hell out of Rampart for good. Dennis has always said he's got a place for me at Georgetown if I ever want it. Maybe I need to put in a call, see if he's as good as his word._

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie's beloved _South Pacific_ album had already been on the turntable. As soon as she had shut and locked the door behind Kel, she had crossed the room to the record player, turned it on, and set the needle in the groove for the song she always listened to when she was most exasperated with Kel. Then she fetched her wine glass from the kitchen counter and drained it in a couple of swallows. She considered pouring herself another glass from the bottle, which was still half full, but decided against it. She needed to be clear-headed more than she needed to dull the hurt she was feeling right now. _I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair._ She turned up the volume so she could hear it from her bathroom, then started to run herself a hot bath, all the while singing along with the scratchy recording. _I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair, and send him on his way!_

After a good soak, she knew what she was going to do. She had an open invitation to visit her friend Trudy, who lived in Sacramento. She would give her a call tonight, then drive up there tomorrow morning. Though she needed time to herself, she liked the idea of having Trudy around if she needed someone to talk to. And thankfully, Trudy was the kind of friend who didn't expect constant conversation and activity. She would respect Dixie's need for a shoulder to cry on, and would leave her alone when she needed it. Trudy also had Toby, the sweetest little spaniel pup, who would happily curl up in Dixie's lap and comfort her.

Once she'd toweled her hair dry, Dixie went to the kitchen. She was hungry, but the pizza no longer appealed to her. She opened the fridge and scanned the shelves for something that looked good, but finally just moved to the freezer and pulled out a carton of Rocky Road ice cream. _Who needs a bowl?_ she thought as she grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer. Then she moved the needle back to the first song on the album. Settling in on the sofa, she pulled the lid off the Rocky Road and dug in.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Joe Early came on shift Wednesday morning to the surprising news that both Kel and Dixie had taken advantage of vacation time they'd accrued. Of course, the Rampart rumor mill had been churning wildly after Taffy's proposal in the cafeteria. Joe had missed the actual event, but he'd heard about it from an x-ray technician, whose cousin was a janitor who heard it from the pedes nurse, who had it straight from the cafeteria cashier. Of course, Joe knew better than to believe more than half of the story that was making the rounds. By the time it got to his ears, Taffy had begged Dixie to run away with him and Dr. Brackett had challenged him to a fist fight out in the ambulance bay.

Around noon, Joe decided to head upstairs to visit Roy. Dwight Pearson was covering for Kel today, and Mike Morton was in. His wife was doing much better and had been discharged a few days before, so Mike was in good spirits. The two could manage without Joe for a bit, especially since the ER wasn't particularly busy at the moment. According to the rumors, Roy and Johnny had been right there to witness the proposal, and Joe knew he could trust Roy for an accurate accounting of what had happened. On the way to the elevator, Joe waved to Dwight. "I'll be back soon," he promised. "Have me paged if things get out of hand."

A few minutes later, he stepped into Roy's room. Roy was just settling in with his lunch, which Joe figured JoAnne had brought him. She sat by the bed, eating a sandwich, and she and Roy were laughing about something. Joe enjoyed the sight. It wasn't that long ago, he mused, that Jo had been crying by her husband's bedside, desperate for him to wake up.

"Hi, Roy. Hi, JoAnne." Dr. Early pulled up a chair and took a seat. "Dr. Brackett is out for the rest of the week, so I thought I'd come up to see how you're doing."

"He's out?" Roy's forehead wrinkled and he frowned. "Is he OK? I could tell he was pretty upset yesterday."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "I've heard about that… and I'm not sure how much to believe. But most of the accounts place you and Johnny right in the middle of the action, so I figured I'd ask you what really happened."

"Action?" Roy shook his head. "I wouldn't say there was too much action, Doc."

"So… you and Johnny weren't about to beat each other up in defense of Taffy and Brackett?" Joe asked, his eyes twinkling and his lips curling into a wry grin.

"Why beat him up when I can run him down with my wheelchair?" Roy deadpanned, then he chuckled. "Actually… we watched Taffy get down on one knee and present a ring box to Dixie… didn't actually see the ring… and he proposed. Then he took off. Dixie hurried out next… looked all flustered. Then Brackett went gray and looked like he was about to lose his lunch, and he said he had to get back to work. That's all I can tell you, Doc." He took another bite of his burger. "I haven't seen him or Dixie since."

JoAnne snatched some potato chips from Roy's bag and he glared at her, then laughed and pushed the bag toward her. "You can have 'em all, Honey. I'm done." He glanced at Joe. "Watch, Doc… she'll put 'em on her sandwich. The kids and I always tease her for it."

"I like the crunch!" Jo's tone rose as she leapt to her own defense. And indeed, she lifted up what was left of the top slice of her bread and piled the rest of Roy's potato chips on top of her cheese, then crushed the bread down on them and took a bite. "Perfect!" she declared, after chewing and swallowing. "And I hope that Dixie says yes to Taffy. No offense intended to Dr. Brackett, but he has put her off all these years. And Taffy's such a sweet man. He and Dixie make a lovely couple."

"Well, I'm not takin' sides on this one," Roy countered. "Except Dixie's side, I guess. She's the one who has to make the choice, and it's gotta be hard. How's she doin', Doc?"

Joe's eyebrow shot up. "I don't know. I haven't seen her, but she's taking a week of vacation, just like Kel. I don't care to speculate beyond that."

Roy shook his head. "Is it just me, Doc, or does it feel like we've landed on the set of General Hospital or somethin'?"

Joe couldn't help a chuckle. "It's not just you, Roy. And whoever's writing the script really seems to have it in for Taffy and Kel both… not to mention Dixie."

"And me… and Johnny." Roy frowned. "I'll have to find out how his follow-up with Valdez went. He never stopped in to tell me yesterday, which makes me wonder if it wasn't as good as he hoped."

Joe nodded, then sighed as he got to his feet. "I'd better get back downstairs. The longer I'm gone, the more likely it is to turn into a madhouse. Thanks for the information. You're looking good, Roy. Really good."

He nodded to Jo as he moved to the door. "I'll check in again tomorrow. Kel left me a note asking me to keep tabs on how you're doing. See you later, Roy… Jo."

"See ya, Doc. Thanks."

When Joe got back downstairs, sure enough the ER was once again buzzing with activity. Betty was walking around with a clipboard, several charts, and a haunted look in her eyes. She was an excellent nurse but didn't have the management skills Dixie had. She brightened briefly when she locked eyes with Joe.

"Oh, Dr. Early! Dr. Pearson said I should page you, but I've barely had a second to breathe. There's a three-year-old girl in Treatment 2 who swallowed a goldfish, a six-year-old boy in Treatment 4 who took a fall from a fence, and a man in Treatment 1 who mistook a bottle of Super Glue for his eyedrops." She pushed their files at him. "And Dr. Pearson said he could use your help in Treatment 3 when you have a chance." With that, she took off down the hall, chasing after one of the paramedics.

"Ah, once more into the breach," Joe murmured as he took a quick look at each chart, then hurried toward Treatment 1. He would spend the rest of the day racing from one patient to the next, putting thoughts of his friends off for another time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Dearest readers, here is another chapter for your enjoyment! Thank you for all the kind reviews and notes I have received! Your feedback and encouragement definitely help keep me going! Katbybee and Piscean6724 are the best beta readers ever!**

 **This chapter sees a return of Tex, whom those of you who have read** _ **Stirring the Ashes of Memory**_ **may remember! I hadn't expected him to do more than exercise the horses, but suddenly he came sauntering in and started talking, and I liked what he had to say.**

 **I would like to welcome a guest writer to this chapter. As I've mentioned before, Taffy is a character who belongs to my good friend and beta reader, katbybee. She offered to write the first draft of the scene for his trip to Washington, D.C., and I took her up on it! I edited a little bit so that it would fit with my style, but for the most part, it is as Kat wrote it. :) Thank you, Kat! I highly recommend her work, especially** _ **Three Ring Circus,**_ **which connects with this story because it forms an important part of Roy's backstory.**

 **Marbo, you are right that it was unusual in the 70s and 80s for a woman around Nita's age not to drive. But Nita grew up on a poor reservation in Mississippi and didn't have the same opportunities Jo had. For those who are interested, more of her backstory is told in** _ **Stirring the Ashes of Memory**_ **as well.**

 **Dixie has been talking with me about Taffy's proposal and I do know how things will go now, but you'll all have to wait a chapter or two to find out!**

 **Disclaimer: Other than driving past, I have never actually been to Georgetown University Hospital. I found a map of the layout online, but I don't know whether it is accurate for the time. I had to use some creative license on this one.**

 **Happy Reading!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Glossary**

 **(Choctaw - English)**

Tasembo - Crazy (the name of the Gages' dog)

Miti - Come!

Ofi achukma - Good dog

 **(Spanish - English)**

Mijo - a contraction of _Mi hijito,_ which means _My son._

Gracias a Dios - Thanks be to God

 **(French - English)**

Adieu, ma chérie - Farewell, my dear.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

When Ken Johnson said "8:00 a.m. sharp," Mike knew what he really meant was 7:45. He made a point of arriving early Wednesday morning, walking through the doors of HQ precisely at 7:30. He was still smiling about the previous evening with Beth.

He'd taken her to The Smoke House in Burbank. Though they couldn't afford to make a regular habit of eating at the classic steakhouse, it had been one of their favorite restaurants ever since they got married just over 20 years ago, when one of their wedding gifts had been a certificate for dinner for two. The food was tasty and it was the best place for celebrity spotting. Over the years, they'd seen Bob Hope there and Bing Crosby and at least a dozen other stars.*

"It's so good to see you smiling again," Beth had said as she reached around the basket of cheesy garlic bread and rested her warm hand on his. Her eyes had sparkled and her soft French accent washed over Mike like a tide on the beach. At that point, he could hardly wait for their server to bring their prime rib, and he would happily skip dessert entirely. He just wanted to get her home so they could continue their date-night in the privacy of their bedroom.

But of course he had waited, and he enjoyed just sitting with her, gazing at her, talking with her, listening to her laugh. All the stars in Hollywood could have been at the Smoke House that night, but he wouldn't have noticed. The only stars he cared about were in her eyes.

Eventually, dinner had ended. He'd paid the bill and they'd headed home and he'd swooped her into his arms and carried her giggling to their bedroom while the twins just rolled their eyes. And, though if anyone asked he'd make up some other excuse, the next few hours he'd shared with his wife were the real reason he walked into work with a dreamy smile stretched across his face.

He had barely settled himself at his desk when Chief Johnson peered around the door. "Ready to go, Stoker?"

Mike glanced at his watch and chuckled. 7:40. He closed the file he'd been about to study and grabbed his badge and keys from his desk. "Yessir, Chief. Let's go."

When he stepped into the corridor, he realized that the Chief wasn't alone. Detective David Barstow served as the investigation team's liaison with the police department. "David's going to join us, Michael. And he has a warrant to help us get the information we need."

"A warrant?" Mike's eyes widened in surprise. "Already?"

"Yep," Barstow said. "I shared your discovery with the District Attorney. We've had no luck tracking her down any other way, and he agreed with us that we need to find her. So he managed to fast-track a warrant to allow us to demand the information we need from the preschool. It was a great catch, Mike. Well done."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

When they reached the preschool around 8:30, they had to make their way past parents walking their children across the parking lot. Mike chuckled to hear a couple of kids arguing about whether he and the Chief were policemen or firemen. Inside, they stepped into the office and asked to speak with the director.

"Mrs. Cassidy is in the classroom just now. Have a seat, officers." The receptionist indicated a row of chairs along the wall. "I'll just let her know you're here." She stepped away from the desk, looking back over her shoulder and aiming a demure smile at Detective Barstow. Mike swallowed a laugh. He'd heard Barstow had a reputation for… well… turning heads, in spite of his wedding ring, and he supposed he'd just seen the truth of it. Mike and David had a seat, but Chief Johnson stayed on his feet, pacing the length of the small waiting area.

About five minutes later, a slender, petite woman wearing a paint-splattered smock over her jeans and top came hurrying into the office area, a welcoming smile on her face. Her curly grey hair was caught up in a bun, but numerous unruly strands had managed to escape. "Hello, gentlemen. I'm Miss Julia…" She stopped and shook her head, then laughed. "Mrs. Cassidy, that is. Cassidy is a mouthful for the little ones, so we stick with Miss Julia. Pardon my appearance —we keep things pretty casual around here. How may I help you?"

Mike and Dave stood up, and Chief Johnson stepped forward and stretched out a hand. "Good morning, Ma'am. I'm Chief Ken Johnson of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. These fellows here are Fire Captain Michael Stoker and Detective David Barstow of the police department. We are investigating the recent fire that destroyed the Sunny Estates Apartment Building, and we understand that your employee Marita Jefferson was a resident there."

Miss Julia's smile faded and her blue eyes turned steely. Mike imagined she used that look to quell temper tantrums and arguments among the preschoolers. "Former employee. Marita stopped coming to work about a week before the fire. Never called, never gave notice, never asked about a sub. At first I worried about her, but then one of my teachers — Brenda —got a message that she was going to visit her sister out of state. I had to hire someone to take her place. If she ever does come back, I can tell you, she'll be sent packing!"

"Did you try getting in touch with her emergency contact?" Detective Barstow asked.

"That's the first thing I tried. But it turns out her mother died a year ago, and the phone number for her brother was disconnected. Then Brenda came to me with the message and I didn't bother calling the third contact."

The detective scribbled on his notepad, then looked up at the director. "We'll need those phone numbers and any other information you have that might help us locate Ms. Jefferson."

She frowned and shook her head. "Not unless I see a warrant. I may be through with her as an employee, but those are private records. I can't just hand them over, even to you!"

By the time she finished her sentence, Barstow had pulled the folded sheet of paper from inside his jacket and handed it to her. "I think you'll find that's all in order, Ma'am."

She studied the document for a moment, then sighed. "Well then..." She turned to the receptionist. "Sue, fetch Marita Jefferson's employee file and give it to these gentlemen, please."

Chief Johnson smiled and nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Cassidy. Now… we'd like to speak to any of your employees who might have heard from Ms. Jefferson. Starting with Brenda, please."

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Cassidy's tone rose in irritation. "This is going to wreak havoc on our day! I'll have to shuffle the children around, and that means several of them will be acting out. But I suppose it can't be helped. I'll fetch Brenda for you. Oh, hello, Mr. Duffy. Hello, Bella." She nodded to a father and his little girl, who had just arrived. "Sue, when you've got that file, show them into my office. They'll have more privacy there."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Two hours later, the men had completed their interviews and were packing up to go. A couple of the teachers admitted to recognizing their suspect from the photograph as Marita Jefferson's ex-boyfriend, but no one would offer up a name. Mike wasn't sure whether they just didn't know or they were unwilling. He looked forward to asking Dave's opinion. If Dave had any suspicions, he sure wasn't letting on. The teachers had depicted Ms. Jefferson as a kind, caring woman, a loving mother who doted on her young son and his older sister, Emma. Mike doubted she could be involved in any arson attempt.

The only other potentially helpful information they'd received was that Marita's sister Lavinia lived in Atlanta and her last name began with R. Or was it S? Brenda couldn't be sure. Mike sighed heavily as they walked back up to the parking lot to the Chief's car. He hoped the last emergency contact number in Marita's file would pan out for them.

As they walked through the office, Sue sidled up to David and tucked a piece of paper in his shirt pocket. "Call me," she said, batting her eyes.

Mike rolled his eyes, and once they were out the door, laughed out loud. "Rumors are true, huh? Your wife must hate to let you out the door!"

"My wife knows she has nothing to worry about." Barstow pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and was about to crumple it and throw it away, but something made him stop and open it instead. He swiftly pocketed it again. "Come on, let's get back to HQ."

Once they were inside the car, Bowman pulled out the paper again. "Suspect's name is Howard Evans," he said. "And Sue says she'll tell us everything she knows if we meet her at the Long Beach Public Library at 4:00."

"All of us, huh?" Ken chuckled as he asked the question. "She's not hoping for a date?"

Barstow snorted. "I doubt she'd expect a romantic interlude at a library. And I don't actually know if she meant just me or all of us… it just says 'you'. And it doesn't matter anyway… no way I'm going alone!"

"Settle down," Chief growled as he pulled out of the parking lot onto the street, headed for the highway. "We'll go with you, Detective. Don't want to give the Missus any cause for concern. Meanwhile, it's lunchtime. Let's head back to HQ and get something to eat, then take a look through that file and follow up on that contact info before we meet with Sue."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny patted Minko's neck and the horse nuzzled his ear. "Sorry, boy… can't ride today. Tex'll take you out later." He had taken the day off and come back home for a while. He and Nita had been living up here less than six months, but the ranch had quickly become a place of refuge for him, and today he needed to clear his head. Ever since his follow-up with Dr. Valdez yesterday, he had felt as if a boulder had settled in the pit of his stomach. He needed to dislodge it, and he hoped a little time with his horses might do the trick.

Nita didn't know he was up here. If he'd told her, she would have tried to stop him, worried he would get himself in trouble the way he did last time. Besides, she and Jo had their plans for the day, and he didn't want to disrupt them. He chuckled and shook his head as he thought about it. The ladies were being awful secretive about something, and he sure was itching to find out what it was.

He gave Minko another pat and then produced an apple he'd brought out from the house and presented it to the horse. Minko thanked him with a twitch of his ears and a gentle snort, and Johnny chuckled. He sure wished he could ride, but that's how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. _Then again…_ He looked up at Minko, who was staring longingly at him. _Surely one little ride would be all right… I wouldn't go far..._

"You will not get on that horse."

Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin. He had thought Tex would be out exercising Jesse for another hour or so, but here the man came, leading Nita's mare into the stable. Tex walked with a slight limp, a reminder, he'd told Johnny, of the years he had spent in a Mexican prison many years ago.**

He had been completely open with the Gages about his history, how he'd killed a man for stealing his horse and been sentenced to 20 years in prison. But the man Tex had become was far different from the man he had once been. Released from prison early, Tex had rebuilt his life. Last year, he had risked that life to save Nita's, which Johnny figured made him family. And two weeks ago, when Johnny learned that the older man had straightened out his status with the INS and been given permission to remain and work in the United States, he'd immediately offered him a job.

Johnny hadn't expected to need a ranch hand when he bought the place. He and Nita were fully capable of most of the work, after all. But with his dominant hand out of commission for a while, it seemed like a good idea, especially since Nita's cousin had to get back his life in Bakersfield.

"You heard me, yes? You will not get on that horse." Tex began removing Jesse's tack.

"Yeah, I heard you." Johnny backed away from the stall and had a seat on the feed bin. "How'd you know?"

Tex raised an eyebrow as he reached for the brush and started grooming the mare. "You have not heard of ancient Kikapu telepathic powers?" Johnny's brow wrinkled and Tex erupted in a belly laugh. "I am kidding you, **Mijo.** I just know how I would feel in your place… I was in the same position last year, after all."

Johnny nodded, but his mind had stopped on Tex's use of the term 'mijo.' Did the man really feel that way about him? Johnny had only been 12 when he'd lost his dad. He hadn't known when he was sent away to school that his father was sick, and when his sole parent had died, Johnny's world had fallen apart. His aunt and uncle had done right by him, but he had always missed his father — the man, definitely, but also simply _having_ a father. His uncle had never been cruel, but he never wanted a paternal role, and he and Johnny hadn't been close. But now Tex had called him son.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned moist eyes toward the stable door, away from Tex. How many times over the years had he longed for this? A father figure to counsel or comfort or simply hang out with? _It's just a word. I'm probably reading too much into it,_ he thought, but he couldn't help thinking it felt right. He smiled and shook his head. He knew better than to actually speak of it to the old man. "You uh… want to walk up to the meadow with me?"

"Anything you say, Boss. Stock is fed and watered. Fence is repaired. A walk would do us both good." Tex grabbed his cane from where he'd left it leaning against the stable wall. He didn't always use the hand-carved staff Johnny had given him to replace the one that was destroyed when he fought off the men who would have kept him from helping Nita, but he said it steadied him on longer walks or when the terrain was uneven.

As the men left the barn, Johnny whistled and shouted, **"Tasembo, miti!"** The pup scampered obediently toward him. **"** Ofi achukma **,"** Johnny murmured as he bent to scratch the little fellow behind the ears, then straightened up and headed for the path.

They walked in silence for a while, and Johnny soaked in the peace of the place. He deliberately kept his pace slow to accommodate Tex, but soon realized he was the one struggling to keep up.

"You need to rest, Mijo?" Tex had stopped to look back at him.

"I'm fine." Johnny shivered slightly, and he picked up his pace to catch up to Tex. The late morning weather was warmer down below, but up here in the hills, it was still cool. He was glad he had worn his jacket.

"You are troubled," Tex observed.

Johnny looked over at him and shook his head as he started walking again, this time moving a little quicker. "I'm starting to believe in those ancient Kikapu telepathic powers, ya know."

Tex just shrugged. "Power of observation. You were getting ready to ride your horse… you came up to the ranch without Nita… you are crawling along like a snail instead of taking the trail at a sprint. Something troubles you."

"I had a follow-up with the surgeon yesterday." Johnny glanced down at his arm resting in its sling. "He… wasn't encouraging." He sighed heavily. "Right after my surgery, he spent a lot of time telling me I had a good chance of getting full use back. Now he says the nerve regrowth isn't progressing like it should… that I might not get it back after all."

Tex kept walking, but he gave Johnny's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"I've been offered a new job… a good one… where my hand won't matter so much," Johnny went on. "I was already thinking of taking it, but… I liked the idea that I could go back to my old job if I wanted to."

"What do the doctors know?"

Tex's blunt question startled Johnny. The answer "Plenty" was at the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He had seen how much they knew. He had watched Brackett and Early and Morton for years now. They saved lives on a daily basis.

"Mijo, when my leg was injured, the doctors said I would never walk or ride again. But look at me. Gracias a Dios, I am able to walk. I am able to ride. " He reached for the cross he wore on a chain around his neck, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. "What I am saying is... there is only so much that doctors can do. Most of it depends on you and your will and your work."

"Yeah, I know… I've heard that over and over from just about everyone." Johnny sighed. "But I can't will the nerves into growing back properly. And it doesn't matter how hard I work if that doesn't happen."

Tex didn't argue, and they walked on in silence up to the meadow. Johnny made for his favorite picnic spot, where he'd proposed to Nita. He could hear the rush of water over rocks from the nearby river… the chattering of birds… the whisper of a soft breeze through the trees. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, absorbing it all.

"Does your Roy like to fish?"

Johnny shook his head, startled once again out of his reverie by Tex's voice. "Yeah… yeah, he does."

"You fish here?"

"Yeah." Johnny thought back to their last fishing trip up here, just a week or so before Roy's accident. "It's a great spot to camp, and the river is full of trout."

"The path is rough. It will be hard for Roy to get to the river. We should build a good path for him." Tex stated the idea in a matter-of-fact way, as if they could build a pathway as easily as they could pour oats in Minko's feeding trough.

Johnny shook his head. "Great thought, Tex… but we would need heavy machinery, wouldn't we? And it would cost a fortune."

"We could do it, Mijo! You and I, working together."

"I've only got one good hand, Tex, and it's my left hand. It's a crazy idea." But Tex had started walking the path toward the river, and Johnny followed him, trying to envision the sort of path that would make the river accessible for Roy. Could they really do this?

Tex turned and caught Johnny's left hand, shaped it into a fist, and held it for a moment between his own hands while he gazed intently into Johnny's eyes. "You must train this hand —make it strong, teach it to serve you well. And when your cast and sling come off, then you will do the same again with the right hand. The work will be good."

Tex dropped his hand and let his eyes rove from the trees to the existing path and all around, and Johnny got the idea he was drawing up plans in his mind. "Your friends will wish to help."

The old ranch hand's excitement proved contagious, and soon Johnny was following him along the path to the river. They passed the next couple of hours making plans and deciding where they would start. By the time they headed back down to the ranch house for lunch, Johnny realized the boulder in his stomach had dissolved into nothing.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

One of the things Dixie loved about living in California was that even in October, she could often lie out by the pool and enjoy the sunshine. Of course, Sacramento didn't have as many sunny days as LA, but today was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky and temperatures in the 80s. A perfect day for basking poolside with her friend and trying to forget her troubles. She stretched and yawned, then rolled over on her lounge chair to let the sun hit her back for a while.

"So, are you going to tell me what brought you up here?" Trudy asked suddenly from the lounger next to hers.

Trudy had welcomed Dixie warmly, of course, when she'd arrived at her apartment complex in Sacramento just after noon. It was a long drive from L.A., but she'd left before sunrise because she couldn't sleep, and she'd managed it with only a few brief pit-stops.

Trudy noticed Dixie's red-rimmed eyes right away. Dixie shrugged off her friend's initial questions, sweeping past her instead to carry her bags to the apartment's small guest room. "Is your pool still open?" she'd called down the hallway. When Trudy told her it was and suggested they sunbathe for a while, she'd changed quickly into a swimsuit and slathered on some sunscreen.

They'd been outside about an hour before Trudy asked her question. A bunch of kids were splashing in the pool, and a few adults sat at the scattered picnic tables, but Trudy and Dixie had their end of the pool area all to themselves.

Dixie sighed. "A wonderful man proposed to me yesterday."

Trudy gasped in exaggerated horror. "Oh, that's terrible. A real tragedy." But when her eyes fixed on Dixie's, she must have seen the hurt in them because she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Dix… I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have teased." She sat up on her lounger and rested a hand on Dixie's shoulder. "What's wrong, Hon?"

"It… it wasn't Kel." Tears started to spill over in spite of Dixie's best efforts to blink them back. _No… I can't cry… not out here in front of people!_ She grabbed her towel and swiped at her face, then threw it down and ran to jump in the water. The cool liquid came as a shock to her sun-warmed body, but only for a moment. By the time she bobbed up to the surface, her tears obscured by the pool water dripping from her hair, it felt good. She swam a lap around the deep end of the pool, then climbed out and wrapped up in her towel. "Let's go inside," she told Trudy. "I'll tell you the whole story."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Even though he had made his travel plans at the last minute, Kel had managed to get a seat on the red-eye to D.C. Normally, he preferred a seat on the aisle, but he had spent the flight crammed next to the window. Had he bothered to look as the plane descended over D.C. on approach to National Airport, he would have had a stunning view of the National Mall and the monuments, but he barely noticed them.

He picked up his suitcase at baggage claim, then hurried outside to the line of cabs. He tossed his luggage into a taxi, then climbed in the back seat. "Georgetown University Hospital please," he told the driver, hoping the man wasn't the chatty type —he didn't think he could handle small talk at the moment.

The driver attempted to point out various landmarks as they drove past, but Kel did nothing more than grunt in response. Eventually, the man gave up and completed the rest of the drive in silence, depositing Kel at his destination about twenty minutes later.

Kel stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at the imposing red brick edifice. Finally, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and shouldered his carry-on bag, and headed for the door.

At the front desk, he waited his turn in line, then asked the attendant for Dr. Dennis Schwartz. "I'm Dr. Kelly Brackett. He's expecting me." He had called Dennis last night — thankfully, the man was a bit of a night owl and was still awake — and his friend had been delighted to hear he was coming.

The desk attendant made a phone call, then looked back up at Kel. "He's in a meeting right now, but he left instructions to send you to his secretary. Just head down the hall to your right. The door at the end will take you to the Administration offices."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Kelly Brackett, as I live and breathe!" Dennis Schwartz came ambling into the Administration waiting area. His hair was silver now, and he'd put on a couple of pounds, but otherwise, he hadn't changed a bit since Kel had roomed with him at Johns Hopkins more than two decades ago.

Kel stood and put out a hand to shake with Denny, but Denny pulled him into a hug instead. Kel clapped him on the back, then pulled away. "Denny. How's Lydia?" Denny's wife had been the only female student in their class at Hopkins, and she had put them both to shame.

"She's in private practice now, a pediatric clinic a few blocks from here. She also volunteers at a charity clinic in Sursum Corda** a couple days a week." A flash in Denny's eyes alerted Kel that his friend wasn't particularly happy about that last fact.

"Bad area?"

Denny sighed. "Lots of drug dealers lately; violent crime too… getting worse all the time." He beckoned for Kel to follow him. "Listen, Kel. Have you had lunch?"

Kel's stomach growled at the very mention of food. He'd slept through the breakfast served on his flight, and they'd arrived in DC before lunchtime. "Not yet."

"Why don't you put your luggage in my office. Then we'll head over to Clyde's and get something." Denny unlocked his office door as he continued to speak and Kel followed him inside with his bags. "It's not far. Come on… my car's parked out back." The two men headed to the parking lot.

Soon, they were settling into a booth at Clyde's. After they had ordered their drinks and an appetizer, Denny leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "So, you're finally interested in taking me up on that job offer, are you? What brought that on? Every time I've tried reeling you in, you've neatly avoided the hook."

Kel chuckled at the metaphor. Denny was an avid fisherman, and during their student days in Baltimore, the two of them had spent more than a few days off bass fishing in Conowingo Lake. "I guess your bait finally looked better than what they were throwing out at Rampart." Even though he considered Denny a good friend, he wasn't ready to get into the details of why he wanted this change. "At least… if it's anything like what you said last time we talked."

Denny took a pen from his shirt pocket and scrawled something on a coaster. Then he pushed it across the table at Kel. "How's that for bait?"

Kel looked at the figure, which was almost twice his salary at Rampart, and raised an eyebrow. "Pretty attractive, I have to admit. What exactly would the job entail?"

"Well, originally I was just hoping to bring you in as a new attending physician in our Emergency Department, but it just so happens our Chief of Emergency has announced he needs to take early retirement." Denny frowned. "His health hasn't been so good lately. I'd like you to take over his position, which I know is the same position you hold currently. You would oversee both residents and medical students, and you might be asked to teach one class a semester. Given the caliber of our school, this would certainly be an upward move for you."

Kel nodded slowly. "It sounds like an excellent opportunity, Denny, but it's a big change. Can I take a few days to think it over?"

"Sure," Denny agreed. "Tell you what… let's eat lunch, and then I'll give you a tour of the hospital and campus… see if we can make that bait even more attractive." He nodded toward the menu as the waiter headed their way. "I recommend the shepherd's pie," he said. "Absolutely delicious."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Andrew Carter knocked lightly at the front door of the Hogan home. Galen was a small suburban community located not far from Washington DC, where both Hogan and Andrew worked at the Pentagon, though Hogan was nearing retirement. (Absolutely ungracefully, but that was another story.) Andrew had picked Taffy Matthews up from Dulles International Airport after his flight from Los Angeles. Carter noticed Taffy was unusually quiet and morose on the drive from the airport but had no chance to ask, because Taffy never offered any opening to talk, and Carter respected his apparent need for space.

Taffy was usually the only other person who could convince General Robert Hogan of anything, and General Hogan was badly in need of convincing this time. He had developed a severe lung infection which doctors had told him had morphed into pneumonia… _double_ pneumonia to be precise. He needed to be in the hospital. Of course, being Hogan, he refused to go and insisted the doctors treat him at home with antibiotics. Insisted he would be fine. Doctors refused, insisting he would _not_ be fine. So far, doctors and patient were at an impasse.

The door swung open and Anton stood there, a relieved smile on his face. He shook Taffy's hand. "Boy, am I glad to see you! Come on in. Dad's being a mule. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. God knows the rest of us have tried. He's in the kitchen."

Taffy nodded grimly. "I'll do what I can. Though why a grown man should need anyone to point out something so obvious is a little beyond me." He headed for the kitchen without even bothering to remove his jacket, and his words were laced with a bitterness he didn't even bother to hide.

Carter stared at Anton in amazement. He didn't think he'd ever heard Taffy speak even a cross word before. He started to follow the chaplain, but then veered instead to take a seat on the living room couch. Anton joined him. Tiger sat across from them in a rocking chair, quilting a patchwork square and muttering darkly under her breath.

She looked up at Carter. "Thank you for bringing him." Andrew knew she had spent yet another sleepless night worrying about Hogan's deep, watery cough and his wheezing, and Hogan had yelled at her to leave him alone about it one too many times.

Carter offered Tiger a reassuring smile. "He'll get the General sorted if he has to knock the sense back into him." The worried friends chuckled at the image, but soon grew silent again and simply waited.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy strode into the room and spotted the ever-present old-fashioned percolator sitting on the stove and poured himself a cup. Hogan refused to use an electric coffee pot, preferring instead to make coffee over a burner. The resulting brew was the stuff of legends and probably should have been labeled a health hazard, but Taffy took no notice as he sat himself across from a now-scowling Hogan. Taffy sipped the evil brew and scowled back. The Welsh chaplain's first volley set the tone for the rest of the battle. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but yer an idiot."

Hogan's eyebrow raised slightly. Taffy watched him try in vain to stifle a cough, but it took hold of him anyway. "Thank you,' he replied sarcastically once he had his breath back.

Taffy indicated their surroundings with a sweep of his hand. "No. I mean it. You have _everything_ , sir. Everything we worked and fought for over there. Everything _you_ always wanted! And you wanna give it all up because you are too stupid and too proud and too scared to realize you might be just a little bit mortal!" Taffy's voice had risen steadily as he spoke, and he had come part way out of his chair.

Hogan growled. "I am _not_ scared to die. I'm not scared of anything."

Taffy chuckled suddenly. "Of course you are, Robert. We all are. It's natural. The bravest man in the universe would be lying if he said he wasn't. Fear is what keeps brave men alive."

Hogan cocked his head. "So, you think I won't go to the hospital because I don't want to admit I could die."

Taffy shrugged. "It's a possibility. It's also possible you're simply being a pain in the ass."

Hogan blinked at the blunt statement. And laughed. After a while, he looked Taffy square in the eye. "True."

Taffy stood and placed his now empty mug on the table. "I can't stay, Robert. I have somewhere important I need to be. Will you go to the hospital?"

After a long pause, Hogan nodded. "Yeah." He stared at Taffy for a long moment. Taffy offered a sad smile in response, but the glint of doubt he saw in Hogan's eyes told him his friend was not convinced.

"Taffy, I'm sorry they dragged you all the way out here." The concern in his tone touched Taffy's heart and softened his response.

Taffy nodded. "Honestly, General, so am I. But, perhaps it was for the best. I don't know. For now, take care of yourself. Let the doctors take care of you." He turned and left the room without another word. He nodded to the others, who waited anxiously in the living room. He smiled tiredly. "He'll go." He looked at Andrew. "Will you mind driving me back to the airport? I want to be on the first possible flight back to Los Angeles."

Carter looked startled but said nothing as he nodded and reached for his coat. Tiger came over to Taffy and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for whatever you said to him, Taffy. I wish you would stay for a while, but I understand if you have to go back."

Taffy took her hand in his. "I do, Marie. Perhaps I will explain it all some time. For now..." He kissed her hand. "Adieu, ma chérie."

Carter and Taffy made the trip back to the airport just as silently as they had the trip to the Hogan house a few hours earlier.

The first possible flight was the red-eye, but Taffy didn't regret spending the rest of the day waiting around at the airport. He didn't feel like socializing or explaining, not until he'd had an answer from Dixie. He boarded his flight just before midnight and arrived in Los Angeles about four o'clock the next morning. Two hours later he checked into the same hotel he had checked out of less than 36 hours earlier. He was more exhausted than he ever remembered being, and he went straight to sleep. The "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door stayed there for the next two days.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Notes**

*The Smoke House: I've never been there, but this steakhouse is indeed a favorite of Hollywood celebrities. Bing Crosby and Bob Hope were both frequent customers.

**Sursum Corda is a neighborhood of Washington, D.C., so named for a low-income housing cooperative that was developed there by a Georgetown alumnus in the late 60s. Students from Georgetown spend time tutoring the residents, and I didn't think it was a stretch to imagine a medical clinic there as well. During the 80s, when this story takes place, the neighborhood declined due to drug dealers and violent crime.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Just a short note this time because this chapter is rather longer than my usual. I hope no one will mind! When Mad Murdock from the A-Team first wandered into Katbybee's story** _ **Three Ring Circus,**_ **I should have known he'd eventually turn up in this story too. I'm glad he did, because I think Roy needed to hear from him. Thanks go to katbybee for helping me write that conversation — she knows Murdock better than I do.**

 **Funny Emergency moment from last week: I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office, musing over what I needed to write for this chapter, and a nurse came out to call in the next patient… who happened to be named Marco Lopez!**

 **Thanks to my awesome beta readers and to all my readers in general. Your reviews and encouragement mean so much to me! If I haven't responded to you after you reviewed a previous chapter, I apologize — life's been kind of crazy since I last posted, and I was sick for several days so was kind of out of commission, but I'm mostly recovered now. Marbo, I can't respond to you privately, but I want to say that your reviews always make my day brighter! Thank you!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Los Angeles, California_

Murdock was not fond of hospitals… was far too familiar with them for comfort. But Doc D was hurt. So, he was here. He had no idea if the man would remember him, but that didn't matter. They were brothers. They were all brothers. He pulled open the doors to Rampart's Main Lobby and headed for the Information Desk.

The young woman at the desk looked up from her paperwork and smiled broadly. As he drew closer, her eyes settled on his t-shirt, the one that said _Pilots do it on the up and up,_ and she started laughing fit to kill, but she quickly managed to compose herself. He thought she was awful pretty when she was laughing, kind of like sunshine lighting up the sky and chasing away the rain clouds, and he wished she would have kept at it. Instead she greeted him with a cheerful, "Good morning. How may I help you?"

He smiled at her, his chocolate eyes warm. Her name tag said _Annie Howard._ "Well, Miss Annie," he drawled as he regarded her intently. "I'm here to see one of your patients. Uh, we called him Doc D, but his name's Roy Desoto. I dunno what room he's in."

"Of course, I can help you with that, Sir." Eyes on the computer screen, she tapped on the keyboard to pull up the information, then she looked up at him again. "Room 235," she said. "Go down that hall to your right and take the elevator up to the second floor."

Murdock nodded. "I can find it, thanks. I'm pretty good around these places."

He turned around and started for the hall, but stopped when he heard her call, "Excuse me, Sir?"

Murdock turned and made his way back to the desk, curious. "Have I broken a rule already?" he smiled. "It usually takes me longer than this."

"No, Sir… not at all." She flashed him a friendly smile. "It's just… I saw the back of your bomber jacket — Da Nang 1970. My dad was at Da Nang. Were you a pilot there?"

H. M. couldn't help it. His eyes grew a little guarded. They always did, always would. "Yeah. I was. Combat, medevac… whatever they needed." It was partially true, and all he would ever tell any civilian, even the daughter of a brother. All he _could_ tell her. He stiffened as he waited for the inevitable next question: If her father had died, or was missing, she would want to know if he had met him, or why he couldn't have pulled him out.

Annie's shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath and her eyes misted. "Dad missed my sixth-grade father-daughter dance because he was deployed… I was so mad at him for that… but when my best friend's dad didn't come home and mine did… I realized how lucky I was." She smiled again. "I'm glad you made it home too, Sir."

The veil fell from Murdock's eyes as he visibly relaxed. He leaned forward, and though his brown eyes danced, there was still pain in them. "Lemme tell you somethin' missee. Don't let anyone fool you. Ol' H. M. Murdock never did quite make it back, baby… but he sure has got some people wonderin'." Suddenly, his eyes were serious and he was no longer smiling. "You pass something along to your father for me, will you?" He drew himself up to attention and snapped off a crisp military salute, then quickly turned on his heel and was gone.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

For a rare hour that afternoon, Roy found himself alone in his room. JoAnne had left after lunch to spend some time with DJ before the older kids got home from school. Johnny wouldn't come by till sometime in the evening, if he came at all. Roy had heard he called out sick from work. That left him some time he wasn't sure he wanted for contemplation. Instead, he had turned on the television, though he wasn't really focusing on the show. His gaze was fixed instead on the shadow the box cast on the wall behind it. In the shadows… lately he felt as if that was where he lived these days. Oh, his emotions were no longer on such a roller-coaster as when he'd first awakened, but he still had his ups and downs. This afternoon, he was feeling particularly down. PT had left him sore and exhausted, and to make things worse, his doctors were making noise about sending him from Rampart to an inpatient rehab facility in a couple weeks.

Roy hated the idea. He just wanted to be home, sleeping in his own bed with JoAnne beside him. He wanted to try to get some semblance of normalcy back. Surely that would help him more than anything else. He really hoped Richardson would support him on this… the psychiatrist stood a much better chance than Roy did of convincing them to let him do his rehab on an outpatient basis. But Brackett was the main one he would have to convince, and Brackett wasn't even here right now. Roy sighed heavily, but then was distracted from his dark thoughts by a knock on the door.

"Anybody home?" A familiar blue ball cap appeared at the door, but the man wearing it didn't step all the way in.

The voice was familiar too. Roy hadn't heard it for almost 20 years, but he had never forgotten it. He clicked off the television set with the remote and turned his head toward the door. "Mad Murdock… wow… c'mon in." The pilot who had saved so many lives back when Roy escaped from Camp 208 had hardly changed over the years… a little older, maybe, but there was no mistaking him. "Is that the same ball cap you broke the commandant's hand over?!"

Murdock grinned as he stepped in and regarded the man in the bed. "Sure is! How ya doin' Doc? Fancy meetin' you here! You're bunkin' just a few miles down the road from me!"

Roy self-consciously adjusted the blanket he liked to keep over his legs. "Been better… but at least I'm alive. You live around here?"

Murdock shrugged. "Yeah… I have my own private suite at the Che' VA Loony Hatch." He grinned, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.

Roy immediately regretted using the term 'mad,' but he didn't say anything more about it. "It's good to see you, Murdock. Have a seat."

Murdock nodded and immediately levered himself onto the floor, leaning up against the wall near Roy's bed, his arms behind his head. He stretched his legs out comfortably, looked up at his friend and grinned. "So, tell me about it. What's goin' on?"

For a moment, Roy just kept silent as he carefully appraised Murdock. He wasn't all that surprised that the man had ended up in the 'Loony Hatch' as he called it. Most of the guys back in Camp 208 had considered him insane. But looking into his eyes right now, Roy couldn't help thinking that for all his quirks, Murdock might be the sanest man he'd ever met. "Caught in a building collapse," he finally grunted. "Don't remember it… woke up here missin' a leg."

His eyes losing all expression, Murdock studied him for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Brother. That stinks."

"Yeah… and ya know… I think the worst of it isn't losin' the leg, but now I've started havin' the nightmares again… takin' me back to the camp."

"Not really surprising. That place would give anybody nightmares. I spent two different stretches as a prisoner over there. Part of the second stretch wasn't in a camp, but that's a different story. Anyway, I was in one of them damned tiger cages for nearly a year straight. Only time I ever got out was when I was guest of honor at one of Dao's special parties." Murdock's earlier flippant tone and manner had gone dark and brittle. His words became rapid-fire, spoken almost in a monotone. "Me, I was sittin' on my ass in that tiger cage, waitin'. I had got myself captured on purpose. But I couldn't make my move till I got the word, you see. An' that word didn't come for two long damn years. I got dropped in that camp and forgotten, dammit!"

Murdock turned desperate eyes on his friend. Roy had a feeling he was about to hear things he shouldn't be privy to, but that wild light in Murdock's eyes meant that the demon was loose and not about to be contained now. "Doc, did you ever wonder why I can fly pretty much anything, wings or no?"

"Can't say I wondered much… but I sure was grateful you could… and did. You saved our lives, Murdock."

The pilot dismissed the compliment with a wave. Without a trace of arrogance, he looked at Roy. "I am the best damned pilot ever born. I could fly a tank if I had to. There's no reason for it. It's just the way it is. I'm also a trained sniper among other things. All that adds up to bad news for me. Because the CIA figured it out. And when they want you, pal, you are in. Believe me. America may be the home of the free… but not if _they_ get their hooks into you. Which is exactly what happened to yours truly. Camp 208. They dropped me in there and told me to wait for orders to assassinate Dao. Which I did. Eventually. But most of those two years didn't go too well for me."

He paused and his eyes narrowed. "I wasn't crazy when I went into that place you know." His voice grew very soft and tears began to track slowly down his cheeks. "They made me choose… jus' like you t. I was there… one o' the other cages. I watched you that day. Wished I had done what you did… but I _couldn't_. I had my mission… I HAD to choose. I was the only one could take Dao out. I had to — an' I just kinda — lost it, I guess. Never did find it again."

Roy wanted to get out of his bed, get down on the floor next to Murdock and grab hold of him and cry with him. Instead he rubbed the tears from his face and awkwardly maneuvered himself around so he could put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, brother." He wasn't sure what else to say; the right words for this just didn't exist.

Murdock scrubbed a hand across his face, snuffled a little, and looked directly at Roy, his eyes still bright with the tears. "Ah, hell, brother. Over at the VA, the shrinks, they keep tellin' me I need to 'deal with my issues' and not let things 'fall through the cracks.' You ever hear that around here?"

"Plenty… but things keep slippin' through. Murdock… I've built up so many walls inside me, tryin' to keep those memories contained, somewhere where I don't have to think about 'em. But they find the cracks and they get through to haunt me… nightmares, flashbacks… I hadn't had any for a long time, but since the accident, they're back."

The pilot nodded. "I get it… I do. Because same thing happens to me. For different reasons. But Doc, don't be afraid of the dark, man. And you don't have to be afraid of the cracks, either..." Murdock stood up and stretched. "See, if it wasn't for the cracks, how else could the light get through?" And he smiled his loopy grin.

Roy nodded slowly as he thought about what his friend had said. "Thanks, Murdock. I… um… hope it won't be another 20 years before I see you again… now that I know you're nearby and all."

"Por nada, muchacho. An' I'm around… I'm always around… except when I'm not." He grinned wickedly, turned to the door, and was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Roy watched him as he slipped out the door, then turned his eyes to his window. Before Murdock came, his mind had been fixed on the shadows, but now… now he focused on the sunlight instead… how it shone through a break in the clouds and illuminated everything. _If it wasn't for the cracks, how else could the light get through?_ Roy nodded to himself and smiled softly. Yeah… the rest of the world might think Murdock was a raving lunatic, but Roy disagreed. He might be a little broken, maybe a little crazy, but Roy knew for sure, he was definitely not insane.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Sacramento, California_

Back in the apartment, Dixie showered, then pulled on her favorite silk pajamas and a terry cloth bathrobe. Trudy had her settled on the couch in short order, with a glass of White Zinfandel, a bag of Hershey's Minis, and a box of tissues. Toby, meanwhile, had curled up next to her and rested his chin on her lap. As she stroked the pup's ears, Dixie spilled out everything, from the years of wondering if she and Kel would ever rekindle their old romance, to Taffy's arrival and how sweetly — but quickly! — he had courted her, and then his proposal and Kel's subsequent declaration of love.

"And I don't know what to do, Tru!" Dixie sniffed. "I know Taffy would be good to me… that he genuinely loves me and would never hurt me… but he…"

"He isn't Kel," Trudy finished for her and handed her a tissue, then held up the wine bottle. "Refill?"

Dixie looked at her empty glass and nodded as she wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. "Yeah." She held out the glass.

"Well then." Trudy tipped the bottle and poured the sweet liquid. "If it's Kel you love, what's the problem? He just told you he loves you."

"Trudy… I… Oh, I don't know." She sipped from the glass, then set it down on the coffee table. "Kel doesn't want marriage… he just wants things to go back to the way they were… an occasional lunch, a glance across the room, a pat on the back. That isn't a romance! That's… that's… well, it's boring, Tru! But Taffy sends me flowers every day and he calls me 'my dearest Dixie,' and… well… there's just something so right about him. He reminds me of —" She stopped suddenly and squeezed her eyes tight against a sudden flow of tears.

"You were about to say Adam, weren't you?" Trudy sat down next to Dixie on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Dear, sweet Adam."

Dixie sniffled and nodded miserably. For a long time, she'd thought of Adam every single day, but over the years, she'd managed to bundle up those memories and store them in some deep recess of her mind. She hadn't been prepared for them to resurface now.

All of a sudden, Dixie felt as if she had been transported back to Korea, to the MASH unit where she had met her mentor and best friend. She rested her head on Trudy's shoulder and wept and remembered.

" _Choppers incoming! Heavy casualties!" The nurses scurried to make ready, and soon Dixie and Trudy found themselves working triage. Dixie moved swiftly from patient to patient, then froze only briefly when she recognized a head of sandy brown hair. Summoning all the discipline instilled in her by years of training, she forced herself to remain calm, to assess the young man's injuries and then move on to the next patient when she realized he was beyond help. But inside, she felt herself breaking apart. She wanted to sit with him, to hold his hand, to give him a farewell kiss and promise that she would always love him. Adam deserved more than to be set to the side, abandoned. Instead, she kept doing her job, keeping her emotions at bay for the sake of saving lives. She almost threw up when she glimpsed the chaplain giving him last rites, but she kept it together by reminding herself over and over of Rule Number 1. Only later, after the job was done, had she stolen a moment to bid her fiancé farewell before his body was loaded on the bus with all the others who couldn't be saved._

Later that evening, she'd fallen apart in Trudy's tent, sobbing out all the hurt and anger and sorrow she'd kept so carefully in check the rest of the day. And just as she had done then, Trudy held her now. "Let it out," she murmured.

Dixie cried for a little longer, then pulled away and straightened up. She hated feeling vulnerable like this, even just with Trudy. It embarrassed her, and she couldn't quite meet Trudy's eyes for a moment.

Thankfully, Trudy seemed to understand. Instead of pushing Dixie to talk, she grabbed a hairbrush from her bag on the coffee table and gently maneuvered her a bit so that she could brush her hair. Dixie's mom used to brush her hair when she was upset and needed to talk, but couldn't manage eye contact. Had she told Tru about that? Or did Tru just know instinctively? It didn't really matter. She closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, calming breaths as the bristles of the brush worked their way through her tangles. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._

Once Trudy had set the brush aside and moved back to her armchair, Dixie felt she could speak without losing it again. "Before we went to Korea, Adam always liked bringing me flowers. The bigger the bouquet, the better." Her lips turned upward in a faint smile at the memory. "When Taffy started doing the same thing, well… that endeared him to me. But it's more than the flowers. We can spend hours talking without getting tired of each other's company." She chuckled, and the shadow lifted from her expression, though her eyes remained moist. "The other night at dinner, we talked for a couple of hours after we finished dessert. We only left because they needed to close."

She reached for her purse and pulled out the ring box and opened it. "He gave me this yesterday."

"But then he left right after proposing?" Trudy sipped her own wine and leaned forward as she listened.

"Well… that was strange, yes. He said one of his boys needed him, and that he would return as soon as he could."

"One of his boys? He's a father?"

"No… well… he has an adopted son from Vietnam, so I guess he is… but he's never been married, and Phan is grown up now. Taffy was a POW in Germany during World War 2… then he ran an orphanage in Vietnam and at some point during the war there, he helped a whole camp of POWs escape. I don't know the whole story, but I get the idea that he was involved in a great deal more than he admits to. In a good way, of course. Anyway… one of those boys he helped save was Roy… a dear friend and currently a patient at Rampart. Taffy considers Roy one of his boys and came as soon as he could when he heard about his injury. He still thinks of the men from the camp in Germany the same way."

"World War 2, Dix?!" Trudy wrinkled her nose. "How old is this Taffy anyway?"

Dixie laughed. "He's only about 15 years older than I am, Tru. That's not too big a difference, is it… at least not at this stage of my life?"

Tru took both Dixie's hands in hers and squeezed them tight. "No, it isn't. And Taffy does sound wonderful. But you need to think about something… Dix… do you care for Taffy because he reminds you of Adam? Because no matter how they may be alike, he isn't Adam, and sooner or later, you will have to face that."

"I know." Dixie snatched another tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes. "He's like Adam, but he's very different too." Eyes glistening, she looked up at Trudy. "I like… love... Taffy for who he is… not for who he reminds me of. Thank you, Tru."

"For what?" Trudy patted on her knee. "I didn't do much more than listen while you talked out your feelings."

"Well, that's exactly what I needed." Dixie glanced down at the ring one more time, then back at her friend. "I guess I have just one more question."

"And I may have an answer." Trudy gathered up the wine glasses and bottle onto a serving tray as she listened.

"Would you be the matron of honor at my wedding?"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Georgetown, Washington, D.C._

Kel sat in the small courtyard outside the university's guest housing. The sunshine felt good. He hadn't expected early October weather in DC to be as warm as back home; in fact, he had a feeling today's weather was unusual.

The years had dulled his memory of how beautiful autumn was back east. The leaves were beginning to change color now. Denny said that the peak colors would come in a couple weeks, but what Kel had seen today sure impressed him.

After lunch and a walking tour, Denny had brought him to his room and helped him get settled, then left him to his own devices for a few hours. Around six, he was supposed to meet the Schwartzes for dinner at 1789 Restaurant. Good thing he'd packed his best suit and tie.

This late afternoon was too nice for sitting inside, so after getting ready for dinner, Kel had come out here to this bench to mull over the job offer, list out the pros and the cons. The pay looked great, but really, that wasn't much of a consideration for him. He had never cared much about money. As long as his paycheck covered life's basic necessities, that was enough for him.

More important than the paycheck was the question of whether he could get along here in Georgetown. He'd lived out here before, of course, when he'd attended Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. He was familiar with the area and would enjoy getting back to some of his old haunts. He knew a fair number of the doctors who would become his new colleagues, and he respected most of them. The position was not all that different from what he had been doing, but even so it was an upward move. After all, it was Georgetown! Accepting the job would be great for his career.

But he would miss California. He would miss Rampart. He'd been with Rampart's ER from its beginning, built it up into one of the finest emergency departments west of the Mississippi. Leaving meant abandoning Roy and Johnny after he had offered them a new position under his supervision. Would the County let him choose his successor? Or would they hire some stranger who would come in and turn the whole program on its head?

The thought of leaving galled him. A week ago, he never would have considered it. But the idea of staying at Rampart without Dixie McCall… or _with_ Dixie Matthews… well, he couldn't stomach that.

He wished he knew what was happening back at home. Had Dixie returned? Had she made a decision? The song she'd played right after throwing him out taunted him. _I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair, I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair._ He sighed. Maybe he should just tell Denny yes tonight.

"Kelly Brackett!" The warm laugh that went along with the voice speaking his name pulled him out of his funk. He would know that laugh anywhere.

He turned around, and for the first time all day his smile reached his eyes. "Lydia Schwartz, it's good to see you again! You haven't changed a bit since med school." His compliment was mostly true. Lydia was still the petite freckled ball of fire that he and Denny had both admired back in the day, but from the looks of the stray strands of hair that had escaped her head scarf, her fiery tangle of curls had faded to ash. But she was still his Lyddie.

His feelings for her had never been romantic the way Denny's were. A good thing, too — Kel wasn't sure their friendship would have survived such a rivalry, and Lyddie had only ever had eyes for Denny anyway. No, Kel's admiration for Lydia had been purely brotherly — mostly friendly, protective, and mixed with a healthy dose of good-natured rivalry and plenty of teasing. While Denny had been his best friend, Kel had readily adopted Lyddie as the sister he'd often wished for. She'd become his confidante and his advisor and, academically, his chief competitor. If anyone else had beaten him out for top of the class, Kel would have been eaten up with resentment, but when Lydia snagged that honor by just a fraction of a point, he'd been as proud and pleased as if he'd earned it himself.

Lydia had never been a classic beauty, but she always cut a striking figure, and age hadn't changed that a bit, even if crow's feet crinkled around her eyes and her freckles had started to fade. That was to be expected. But one of the changes he saw worried Kel. Lydia had lost a lot of weight since he'd seen her last. She'd always been slender, but now she was gaunt. Her ankle-length emerald green dress with its long flowing sleeves did a passable job of hiding it, but her sunken cheeks and tired eyes were ample evidence that something was wrong. And then there was the head scarf. She had never worn those… she had always considered her mass of curls her best feature, though Kel thought her dancing green eyes a fair contender. What had Denny neglected to tell him? Kel glanced downward, attempting to master his reaction before meeting her eyes.

If she noticed — and she probably did, because those eyes rarely missed anything — she didn't say so. "Flattery won't get me to compliment your fashion sense, Kelly," she teased, her nose wrinkling pleasantly. "Pinstripe suit with a checkered shirt… really?" She shook her head and clucked her tongue as she sat on the bench next to him and straightened his tie. "And this wide tie… well, at least it isn't striped, but don't you know narrow ties are coming back into style these days? Kelly Brackett, what were you thinking? You need a wife, my friend."

Her comment made him wince, but he tried to cover it with a forced laugh. "Well, you were taken, Lyddie," he quipped, "and I never could find another girl who appreciated my style." From the way those green eyes widened and then flooded with sorrow, he knew she saw right through his attempt at levity.

"I'm sorry, Kel," she said softly, and she gave his tie a tug. "Something happened, didn't it? And it had to be something big to make you consider Denny's offer after so many years of putting him off. I was wondering. I told him I was going to come meet you a bit early so we could talk about it. Trouble in paradise, Kel?"

"Paradise?" he scoffed. "I'd hardly describe Los Angeles as paradise. But yeah," he sighed. " _Trouble_ fits pretty well."

"Spill it, Kel. Right now." Her tone was firm, but her eyes were soft. "I'm worried about you, Little Brother."

"Little?!" he sputtered. "I'm a foot taller than you, I'll have you know!" In spite of his indignant protest — the standard one he tossed out whenever she used that nickname — he couldn't help laughing.

"And I'm three weeks older and therefore infinitely wiser. So, Little Brother… tell me what's going on."

"Fine," he said. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the row of bright yellow elm trees at the far end of the courtyard. And he told Lyddie everything, from treating Roy at the scene of the collapse up to the moment he'd stormed away from Dixie's door after hearing that song. Damn, but he hated _South Pacific_ with a passion just now.

She was quiet for a long moment when he finished. He didn't dare look at her. He couldn't stand it if she told him he was an idiot, even though he had already said it about himself several times over the last few days.

She didn't. She never would. Instead she laid a frail hand on his shoulder. "Kelly, have you ever actually _seen_ South Pacific?"

 _What kind of a question is that?!_ Surprised as he was, he just shook his head. "No."

She grasped his chin and gently turned his head so that he had to meet her earnest gaze. "Then you don't know that five minutes after singing that song that has you all worked up, Nellie Forbush is singing her heart out about being in love with a wonderful man… and she's talking about the same man!"

"Really?"

"Really." She patted on his shoulder. "Listen, Kelly. Denny will be furious at me for saying this — he loves the idea of having you back with us. So do I. We've missed you. But you have to make sure you aren't leaving Rampart for the wrong reasons. You've never been the sort to run away from a challenge, and you shouldn't start now. Also, if your Dixie does marry this Taffy fellow, I think you'll always regret it if you don't make your peace with her before deciding whether to stay or move on. At least think about it, all right?"

He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "All right," he promised.

She patted on his knee. "Come on. Denny is meeting us at the restaurant. It's a nice evening for a walk, and it isn't very far."

"Are you sure?" He worried about her. She looked as if a light breeze would blow her away. "We could get a cab."

"I'm sure, Kelly. It won't take more than fifteen minutes, and we could use a little more time to talk."

"I don't want to talk about Dixie any more tonight, Lyddie. She's all I've been thinking about for the last few days and it's going to drive me nuts."

She giggled and punched him on the shoulder. "Well, that's a short drive. Seriously, though… we don't have to talk about Dixie. We have plenty to catch up on."

He stood, then offered his hand to help her to her feet. "Thanks. What I want to catch up on is you." He put an arm around her shoulder. "Lead the way, Big Sister. And then I think you have some telling of your own to do."

"Who me?" She gave him a sideways glance.

"C'mon, Lyddie," he growled, "don't give me that innocent act. You've never been good at it." His tone softened. "I can tell you're sick."

She sighed. "Hodgkin Lymphoma. I was diagnosed six months ago, but I'm taking part in an experimental treatment and my oncologist says I'm responding well." She smiled ruefully. "I have good days and bad, but I have managed to keep working. Denny would like me to cut back my hours and give up volunteering altogether, but those kids need me. I would feel like I was abandoning them."

"Lyddie… other doctors can do that work." Kel stopped and turned her to face him. "Denny's right. You need to take it easy, focus on getting better instead of spending so much time in such a dangerous p —"

Her eyes flashed as she cut him off. "Stop it, Kel! I am focusing on getting better. I know other doctors can work at the clinic; several do. I'm under no illusion that I am indispensable. But those kids do as much — maybe more — for me as I do for them, and they are just as important to my recovery as the chemotherapy. Every one of us has a hard road to walk, Kelly Brackett. Denny and I… those kids I work with… you… your friend Roy… Dixie... and even this Taffy Matthews who has you so riled. None of us should walk that road alone. Just like you and Denny, those kids are walking the road with me and we're taking care of each other."

She leaned against him and he tightened his arm around her feather-light frame. "Are you sure you don't want to catch a cab? Isn't Denny worried about you?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather walk while I can. It's a beautiful evening and we have plenty of time. And yes, Denny worries. But he also knows better than to try to stop me from doing whatever I set my mind to." She patted on his hand at her waist. "I'll be all right, Kel. Whatever happens… whether the treatments bring me to remission or the cancer progresses and ends my life… I've made my peace with it."

He couldn't argue with her. Come to think of it, he'd never been able to. He bent to plant a kiss on the top of her headscarf and then straightened up, keeping his arm around her for support. "All right, then, Lyddie. We'll walk it together. Let me know if you need a break."

About ten minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant, where Denny was waiting for them out front. The two men exchanged knowing glances as Kel passed Lydia into her husband's arms. He would talk about it with Denny later. For now, they would just enjoy being three old friends reunited for a little while, and set all their worries aside for another day.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _Los Angeles_

The Chief ended up trapped by a pile of paperwork, so Dave and Mike made the trip to the library together to meet Sue Miller. Dave made Mike change clothes first, though. "We should consider it an undercover assignment," he explained. "Sue clearly doesn't want anyone to know she's helping with the investigation. You have jeans and a t-shirt here?"

Mike's duffel from his last shift at the station was in the trunk of his car, so he did have a set of clothes. He made quick work of changing and met Dave in the lobby. "You know where the library is?" the police detective asked.

"Yeah, Ocean and Pacific. My boys go there all the time." Mike smirked as he added silently, _Not to mention I know the whole area like the back of my hand after years of driving the engine on calls. Think we put out a trash fire back of that library once._

"Good. You drive."

Mike led the way to his old powder-blue Dodge Dart. The guys liked to tease him about Hannah, as he'd christened the Dart the day he bought it brand new back in '69. They couldn't believe he'd ever drive anything that wasn't fire-engine red. Beth teased him too, calling Hannah the 'other woman' in Mike's life. Mike loved Hannah like he loved Big Red, and he gave her the same care and attention. As he unlocked the door, he glanced across the hood of the vehicle at Dave, hoping to see a little admiration in the man's eyes. "Wipe your feet before you get in."

Dave laughed. "Um… sure."

Mike slid into the driver's seat, then leaned across and unlocked the passenger side door for Dave. He watched as Dave took his seat. If the detective had been one of the twins' friends, Mike would have lectured him about keeping the car clean and not leaving any trash behind. He figured that might not go over well with a colleague, so he settled for an introduction instead. "Dave, meet Hannah."

Dave twisted around to glance in the back seat, then looked back at Mike. "Hannah? Who's Hannah?"

Mike gestured with his left hand while the right turned the key in the ignition. "The car!"

"The car… you named your car Hannah?"

Mike caught Dave's bemused smile out of the corner of his eye. "Well… yeah."

"But why?"

Mike shrugged up a shoulder. "She told me."

Dave just stared, then shook his head. "Dude… it's a car."

Mike grimaced as he patted lovingly on the dashboard. "Don't listen to him, baby," he crooned. "He just doesn't get it." He started up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot onto Eastern Avenue.

Once Dave had stopped laughing, he quickly changed the subject. "So… we had no luck with the final emergency contact. Number was disconnected. I don't think the information has been updated since Marita filled it out when she was first hired."

Mike flicked on the blinker, then took the ramp onto the highway. "What did you think of the ladies we interviewed at the preschool? Were they all telling the truth… they didn't know the guy?"

"First tell me what you think… consider it part of your training."

Mike considered for a moment before answering. "Well, Brenda wouldn't look us in the eyes. That's what my son Ian does when he's lying. And Linda's voice sounded… well… a bit strangled… when she said she didn't recognize the guy in the picture. I think she knew who he was… and I think maybe she was scared of him."

"Well done, Mike. You picked up on the same things I did about both of them. Now… did you notice Tina kind of pulled her shoulders in when she was answering our questions about the photograph and she kept looking to the left before she would speak? I think she was lying too. But Tara and Michelle both came across as honest to me. They were straightforward, didn't fidget much, and maintained eye contact."

"Tara and Michelle… they're the new teachers — the ones who came after Marita left." Mike was quiet for a moment while he carefully merged onto the highway. "So why didn't you mention any of this during the interviews?"

"The timing wasn't right, especially with the director hovering. We need to talk with them away from the school."

"You don't think Mrs. Cassidy —"

"Well, she's harder to read than the others. Mostly came across as honest and straightforward, but she had a couple of tells, too. I didn't get the idea that she really wanted to deceive us… but it did seem she might be afraid of something —"

"Or someone," Mike interjected.

"Yeah, Someone… like Howard Evans, maybe."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The trio sat on a bench at the park close to The Queen Mary. The pleasant park was a busy place on a warm October afternoon, but Dave seemed to think that would make it a good place for their meeting with Sue. "Two men, meeting privately with a female informant… and an attractive one at that? It's best we stay somewhere public, Mike," he had explained as they arrived at the library and glimpsed Sue waiting for them near the main entrance. "You and I both know we wouldn't do anything wrong, but I'd like to avoid any suspicion… especially after the way she was flirting earlier. I wish Alvarez hadn't called in sick this morning — normally I would have brought her along for this."

They had walked the short distance to the park and found a bench situated near the western end. They were in plain sight of anyone else at the beach, but far enough away that they could talk without fear of being overheard.

"Thank you for meeting with me here… I couldn't talk openly at the preschool. Mrs. Cassidy would be very upset if she knew I was meeting with you!"

Mike observed Sue carefully as she talked. Her eyes were darting around and her words came in a rush. _Nervous,_ he thought. He knew those mannerisms could also be a sign of dishonesty, but he didn't think she would have arranged to meet them like this only to lie to them. "Miss Miller, it's all right," he said softly. "Mrs. Cassidy isn't here. You can talk to us."

"She's afraid of Howard. He's her nephew and… well… he's a really weird guy. I mean, he can seem nice on the surface, but when things don't go his way he… well… he has a terrible temper. He met Marita when she started working at the preschool and at first he was real sweet to her… he sent her flowers and brought her candy and she loved the attention. But right after they got engaged, things changed. Marita started coming to work with… with heavy makeup on her face. I could see the bruises she was trying to hide and one day I asked her about it, but she just said she was clumsy."

The fury burning in Sue's eyes left Mike little doubt that she was telling the truth. In his line of work, he had seen victims of domestic violence too many times to count, but the thought of it still turned his stomach. He swallowed bile as Sue continued spilling out the story.

"One day I found her sobbing in the bathroom after the kids went home and so I took her for coffee after work and we sat and talked. But she would barely say anything and right at 5:00 she jumped up and grabbed Kirby out of his highchair and said she had to pick up Lynnie and get home or Howard would be mad. 'Mad enough to hit you?' I asked her while we walked back to my car."

Stoker glanced at Dave out of the corner of his eye. The detective's face was impassive, but his eyes had gone stone cold and Mike knew he was more determined than ever to get this guy. Mike felt the same way. He was ready to lock Howard Evans up and throw away the key.

"What happened next, Sue?" Dave asked.

Sue shuddered slightly, but she went on without hesitation. "That's when she burst into tears and told me everything. She was desperate to get away from him, but he had made a lot of threats, including against his aunt if she did anything. At one point when she said she would file for a restraining order, he started threatening the preschool. He… he told her he would burn the place down with all of us in it if she went against him. I didn't take her home, I just couldn't. I mean… I don't want him coming to the school and hurting anyone, but I couldn't let her go through that, could I? She refused to go to the police, though, so instead, we got Lynnie and I drove her to the airport and bought her a plane ticket to go see her sister in Portland. She called Brenda and told her she was going to Atlanta because she was afraid Mrs. Cassidy would tell Howard and he would go after her."

"And this was one week before the fire?"

Sue nodded miserably. "I know I should have come forward sooner. We all knew he was a loose cannon. But after Marita left, Mrs. Cassidy gathered us—except for the new girls—and told us we had to keep quiet, that Howard had been making all sorts of threats to her and he was sure one of us helped her disappear. She was terrified that he would come any time. But he never did. Instead…" This time her tears spilled over and Mike's heart was breaking for her. "Instead, Marita's apartment building burned down and… and I knew it had to be Howard who did it and I should have spoken up then but… Mrs. Cassidy begged us not to. She said we had to keep quiet and protect the kids." She was sobbing now. "But if I'd just said something when I first realized what was going on… I could have protected those kids in the fire, and that fireman!"

As true as her words were, Mike's heart went out to the young woman. She'd been placed in a terrible situation, between a rock and a hard place as the saying went. And thanks to her, they knew they were on the right track to catching the arsonist. He lay a hand on her shoulder and he could feel her trembling through her blouse. "Hey, you did the right thing talking to us. Thank you, Miss Miller." He gave her a couple of comforting pats and then pulled his hand away. To be completely honest, women (other than Beth) mystified him and he wasn't sure what else he could say.

"Captain Stoker is right, Miss Miller," Dave added. "Thank you for this information. We're going to find Evans and put him behind bars and thanks to you, he won't be hurting anybody else."

Sue looked up, blinking back more tears. "You won't tell them I talked, will you? I… I could lose my job… or even worse… he might come do something at the school."

"We won't tell them." Dave promised, "but Sue… at some point, we may need you to testify. Are you willing to do that?"

She frowned and her forehead wrinkled as she hunched forward and squeezed her eyes shut. Mike watched, and he could practically see the courage flowing into her. He wondered where she had summoned it from. When she opened her eyes again, her forehead had smoothed out and that fury he'd see burning in her gaze had been replaced with peace and certainty. "Yes, Detective, I'll testify. I'll do whatever you need me to do."

Mike knew they really needed Marita to testify, and maybe Mrs. Cassidy, but Sue had helped them immeasurably today, and while her word on the witness stand probably wouldn't be enough, it would help. They walked her back to her car at the library, then returned to Hannah. After Mike dropped Dave back at HQ, he headed home. The detective could deal with tracking down Marita using the info Sue had given them. Tonight, Mike only needed one thing, and that need had him pressing the gas pedal to the floor, pushing Hannah harder and faster than usual down the highway — all he wanted was to walk in his front door and wrap Beth in his arms and forget for a little while that monsters like Howard Evans existed.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy sat by the window in his wheelchair. The chair itself — hospital issue — wasn't all that comfortable, but it was better than the bed. Marco had rigged up a makeshift desk for him, a cedar wood tray that clamped over one armrest of the chair and then folded down to provide a smooth surface good for writing or playing cards or whatever he needed; it also filled the room with the rich fragrance of cedar, which Roy found soothing. At the moment, several sheets of plain stationery lay on the tray in front of him. He had filled two pages already with slightly slanting lines of his loopy handwriting. He wouldn't win any penmanship awards, that much was certain, but it was legible. He wrote and wrote, but never permitted himself to look back over the words. No, his goal was to get them out of him; he didn't plan to let them back in if he could help it. He would give this letter to JoAnne and she could read it and then save it or burn it or whatever she pleased.

The open window looked down over the courtyard and playground, a pleasant view. From time to time, Roy would blink away the memories and feast his eyes on the trees and shrubs and the little kids playing under the watchful eyes of their caregivers. He was especially conscious of how the fading sunlight cast a warm glow over everything it touched. The shouts of children at play kept him grounded in the present, even while he allowed his mind to delve back into the past, examining all the memories he hoped to expunge. Johnny, who seemed to have recovered from whatever illness kept him out of work, sat across the room, his nose buried in a book, but Roy suspected he was only pretending to read. Roy felt his friend's eyes boring into him as if Johnny was afraid this writing exercise would push him over the edge. Roy had worried about that before he started, too, but strangely enough he found it cleansing… as if each word he wrote were a sponge that scoured away the mud and misery of Camp 208.

"Ya know, Junior," Roy finally said as he sat back and lay his pen down. It rolled toward the edge of the desk, but he managed to catch it before it ended up on the floor. "I can feel you watchin' me. It's kinda creepy, actually."

Johnny put down his book with a sigh. "Sorry, Pally. Guess I'm just worried… this has to be hard on you." He indicated the pages Roy had filled. "You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK. Real good, actually." Roy drummed his knuckles on the desk as he thought for a moment. "It's good, gettin' it out. You'll sit with Jo when she reads it, right? She… uh… shouldn't be alone."

Johnny regarded him gravely for a long moment. "You know I will, Roy."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Roy took up his pen again. Johnny returned to his book. Nothing more needed to be said between the two friends. An hour later, Roy folded the letter and slid it into an envelope, then handed it to Johnny. That night, for the first time in weeks, his sleep was peaceful and untroubled by nightmares.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: After the last very long chapter, I've just got a short one for you today. I thought of writing more, but it felt complete after I finished Roy's bit. The next chapter will catch up on Dixie, Taffy, and Kel, and maybe Mike.**

 **Thank you to all my readers, especially my betas! You are all wonderful!**

 **Marbo (and anyone else interested) — Mike's car is actually. based on my husband's! It was a baby blue '69 Dodge Dart that his parents bought new when he was three years old. They passed it down to him and he was still driving it when we met in 1994. A couple years later, he decided that he needed a new car, so he went out and bought a '70 Dodge Dart.**

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JoAnne sat on the edge of her seat in Dr. Richardson's office, absently tugging at a hangnail. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her to attend Roy's session, or why Roy wasn't here. Johnny sat next to her, drumming his fingers on his knee. Dr. Richardson had received an urgent phone call just as they were about to begin and had to step out, and they were waiting for him to return.

"Johnny… what is this about?" she finally asked. She lay a hand on his arm and could feel his tension. He knew something, and it worried her.

He shifted and rubbed at his neck. "Now, Jo. Don't you think we should wait for the doctor to get back and explain that?"

"Johnny!" She bounced to her feet and started pacing. "I swear, sometimes you can be the most exasperating man who —"

"Jo." He was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a hug. "It's all right, Jo. It's just… the doc thought it would be best if he was here first." As she relaxed against him, he loosened his hold and let her go back to the chair.

She pulled a tissue out of the box on Dr. Richardson's coffee table and blew her nose. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She managed to blink most of them back, but one escaped to slide down her nose. "You're not going to tell me they have to take more of his leg?"

Her concern was valid. Between the field amputation and the surgery immediately after Roy arrived at the hospital, Brackett had been able to save a few inches of the leg below the knee, but the possibility always existed that the amputation would need to be revised and Roy would end up losing the joint. Having his knee meant he would have a better chance with a prosthetic, so everyone hoped a revision wouldn't be necessary.

"Relax, Jo," Johnny soothed. "You know Brackett said Roy was healing pretty well and he didn't think they would have to do that."

She nodded and sniffed and wiped away more tears. "I know. I'm sorry, Johnny. It's just… I don't know why I would be here without Roy, and I'm worried, and… well…"

"And you've been under a lot of stress lately?" Johnny knelt in front of her chair and grasped her hand.

She nodded. "Mostly I'm doing all right with it, but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming." She met his eyes with a fierce glare. "And you won't breathe a word of that outside this office — I don't want Roy to know I'm struggling."

"I won't say a word, Jo. You know you never have to hide it with me or with Nita. And I know I don't need to remind you that you've got a lot of other folks looking out for you and Roy and the kids right now."

Jo nodded again. She and Roy didn't have any relatives in the area — their parents had all passed on, Eileen's family had moved to Seattle a couple of years ago, and Roy's younger sister Marta was traveling in Europe on tour with the New York Philharmonic. But Johnny was right. Besides the help she'd had from the Gages, who really were more family than friends, the fire department families had been wonderful, especially those who had served with Roy over the years. Between the old 51 A-Shift, Roy's current station, their church family, and dear Winnie Canfield, the DeSoto family freezer was full almost to overflowing with prepared meals, and the kids always had friends to stay with and rides to and from their various activities. Jo had been afraid at first to take advantage of all the offers of help, but after the debacle with Franny Davis — the thought of what that bratty child had said to DJ still made Jo's blood boil! — she had finally swallowed her pride. What was it, she wondered, that made it so hard to accept the same help from others that she had given so freely to other families from the LACoFD over the years?

She swallowed hard. "Thanks, Johnny."

To her relief, Dr. Richardson walked back in just then. With a quick apology for the interruption, he took his seat behind the desk, and Johnny returned to his seat as well. JoAnne watched the psychiatrist's gaze travel from the tissue in her hand to her undoubtedly red-rimmed eyes. "Are you all right, JoAnne?"

"I'm fine," she said, the words coming out more brusquely than she intended. "Sorry. I'm… just a little concerned about why I'm here."

Dr. Richardson's smile lifted her spirits a little. "It's quite all right, JoAnne. Roy has written a letter for you, and he thought this might be the best setting for you to read it. He didn't want you to be alone." He nodded to Johnny. "Captain Gage?"

Johnny reached a hand into his inside jacket pocket and drew out a pale blue envelope. He held it out to her, and she took hold of it, but he didn't release it right away. "Jo…" His voice was soft and steady, and she could hear a tangle of emotions in it. Concern and compassion and sorrow, and, woven throughout, the unwavering love of a brother. Like Roy, Johnny felt things very deeply, but unlike Roy, he was hardly ever quiet about it. Whatever that envelope contained had made him quiet, and she thought maybe that scared her more than anything else. "Jo, Roy knows you need to know what happened to him in Vietnam, but… it's just too hard for him to speak it to you, or to be here when you find out. So… well… he wrote it down for you."

She drew the envelope closer and stared at it, running her fingers along the lines of her name, spelled out in Roy's script. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she really wanted to read the letter. No… she _knew_ she didn't want to, but she also knew that she needed to. She slipped a finger under the edge of the flap and broke the seal, then pulled out the crinkly sheets of onion-skin stationery that were neatly folded inside.

Before she unfolded it and began to read, she glanced up at Johnny. "You've read this?"

He nodded somberly. "He asked me to."

For a moment she felt like she couldn't get enough air, like no matter how she tried to suck in a good breath, it just wouldn't go to her lungs. Her fingers tightened on the pages and she squeezed her eyes shut. Did she really want to know what he had written?

Johnny's arm came around her shoulders and she found she could breathe after all. "I'm all right," she insisted, and she opened her eyes. "I'm ready."

She unfolded the pages and her gaze went to the first line.

 _My Beloved Jo,_

 _I hope you aren't angry that Johnny is there with you instead of me while you read this. I have to tell you things that I know are going to break your heart and seeing that — well it would break mine beyond repair. You asked me once years ago why I wouldn't trust you with what had happened to me over in Nam. It was back in that tough time when we weren't sure our marriage was going to make it even though we loved each other like crazy. I got angry and stormed off and ended up going to sleep on the sofa that night but later I got up and went to our room and found you'd cried yourself to sleep. I'm so sorry, honey. Sorry for all the angry things I said back then… sorry for keeping a part of myself closed off to you for all these years… even though my reason was never a lack of trust. I couldn't find the right words to say it back then because I hadn't really figured it out myself. I just wanted to protect you. I wanted to have one part of my life — my family — untouched by the horrible things I'd seen… the things that happened to me._

 _Thing is, as long as I carried all those memories inside me, they were going to touch everyone around me whether I wanted it to or not, no matter how many walls I might build up to keep them contained. I thought I had them dealt with, locked away deep inside, but ever since the accident they're wreaking havoc for me. I know writing this letter isn't some magic cure-all. I've got PTSD. I'll still have it when I'm done writing. But maybe I won't have the nightmares anymore. And maybe I'll be able to help you understand that you truly are everything to me._

 _Before I say anything else, I need to tell you, Jo — more than anyone, you are the reason I survived. Yeah, there were guys who risked just about everything to get me and the others out of there, and I am forever thankful to them, but you… you are the reason I lived long enough to be rescued. Dreams of you, plans for our wedding, imagining what our kids would look like, reading over and over that last letter you'd sent me, the one I had tucked in my pocket when I got captured and that by some miracle I was able to keep hidden. You don't know how many times I was tempted to check out, but I would focus my thoughts on you and without you even knowing it, you pulled me back into living and got me through the darkest days. I heard somewhere once that the only remedy for death is life. For me, you were life and breath and my reason to keep living, my remedy for the death that was eating at me from the inside out — not just in 'Nam, but also when I came home. I love you with all my heart, Jo. I love you and trust you and now I need to open up that part of my life I've tried so hard all these years to protect you from._

She stopped reading and looked up at Johnny, her eyes bright with tears. "I always thought he didn't fully trust me," she whispered. "But he really does." Her first instinct was to push the letter into Johnny's hands. She couldn't stand reading any further. But Roy had entrusted her with those memories. At last he was willing to let her help him bear the crushing burden of his past. And so, after wiping the tears from her eyes, she focused once more on his words.

Halfway through the letter, she had tears streaming down her face. She didn't bother wiping them away. She held the letter in one trembling hand while the other hand clung to Johnny's arm. Only when he pulled away briefly to get her a tissue did she realize that he was fighting tears too. He handed her the tissue and she blew her nose, then gripped Johnny's hand and continued reading.

As she came to the final page, her eyes were dry, but her cheeks were still tearstained and a gnawing ache had settled in the pit of her stomach.

 _Jo, honey… please understand, I can't actually talk about this with you yet. Maybe I won't ever be able to. Writing this letter is about more than sharing with you… it's my attempt at letting it out and letting it go, not allowing it to hold my mind and spirit captive any longer. I can feel that just the act of writing has had a cleansing effect on my heart. Do what you want with these pages… tear them up… burn them… save them if you want to… But whatever you do, know that I am always and forever yours, that I love you to the ends of the Earth and back again, that I spend every day hoping and striving to become the husband and father you and the kids deserve._

 _And Jo, even though I can't talk about this, please don't think that means you have to be strong for me. You can cry if you need to. You can yell. You can punch things (just not me, huh?). You think I don't see it, but every once in a while, it creeps into your eyes — your need to be held and comforted and your fear to let me know. But then you blink it away and keep going. Jo, you are the strongest woman I know, but you have these needs same as anyone would. You shouldn't have to be strong all the time. Let me be your shoulder to cry on. Maybe you and I could use a couple of Johnny's "scream therapy" sessions up on the roof (though I can think of some other kinds of therapy I'd prefer with you)._

That last bit brought a faint smile to Jo's lips. He knew her so well, and she hadn't fooled him no matter how hard she'd tried. And then, for him to outright flirt with her? Well, that was her old Roy coming back to her. She caught in a breath and then moved on to the final paragraph.

 _Thank you, JoAnne, for being patient with me. Thank you for loving me through it all. This road we're on is awfully hard and long, but we're traveling it together and that makes all the difference for me._

 _With love,_

 _Roy_

When she had finished, Jo briskly reordered the pages, then folded them up and gently slid them back into the envelope. She took a moment to examine her fingernails and dab at her eyes while she gathered up the strength to meet Johnny and Dr. Richardson's frank gazes. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to manage anything more at the moment.

"Would you like to talk about anything you read, JoAnne?" the psychiatrist asked.

Jo shook her head. "No… I... I just need to see Roy now." She tucked the envelope into her purse, pushing it all the way to the bottom under about a month's accumulation of receipts and other sundry. She would decide what to do with it later.

"Of course," the doctor agreed. "Would you like me to have him brought down?"

"No. I'd rather see him… by myself… if you don't mind." She caught in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "Thank you, both of you. This was… very hard, but also… I think… very good."

When she stood, both Johnny and the doctor did as well. She shouldered her purse, then shook Richardson's hand and gave Johnny a quick hug. Then, without another word, she hurried out of the office and headed for Roy's room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy sat by the window again, trying not to think about JoAnne reading his letter. He enjoyed sitting here because the window allowed him a glimpse of life in the "real world" he wanted so much to get back to. Ever since his talk with Murdock, he had been particularly attentive to light, and that had led to thoughts of his dad.

An artist — both potter and painter — Danny DeSoto probably would have something meaningful to add to Murdock's comment about the cracks letting in the light. Roy fondly remembered long ago summer outings with his dad, visiting the art museum on a free day. Dad would make a beeline for the Italian masters and Roy would spend an afternoon listening to him go on and on about their use of light and shadows. His favorite was Caravaggio*. "Look at this one," he would say, all excited as he lifted his son up on his shoulder so the child could see better. "They call it _chiaroscuro…_ that means light-dark. Do you see how the artist's use of shadows makes the light stand out more? Ahh, Roy… can you see it, son? Caravaggio was a rough man… shadowed… often dark… but he damn well knew what light could do."

Danny was his adoptive dad, actually, but Roy hadn't known anything about that until a few years ago, after his mom passed away and he'd spent a few days reading through her old journals. All he knew of his real dad, who had died several months before Roy was born, was his name, rank, and service number, and the description his mother had recorded in her journal: apparently, 2nd Lieutenant Royal Christopher Asbury was a tall, handsome ginger with laughing blue eyes and a smile that would melt your heart.

And yet Danny DeSoto was Roy's real dad in every way that counted. The man had married Roy's mother knowing that the child she carried in her womb really belonged to his best friend, and he had lavished Roy with the same love he'd given to his younger sisters. Never once did he give Roy reason to believe that they were not bound by blood. According to Mom's journals, during the war Dad had held a dying RC Asbury in his arms and made him a solemn promise. "Take care of Harriet," RC had pleaded with his last breath. "Tell her... I love her."

Some might have considered such a promise unbinding, meaningless beyond the comfort it offered a dying man, but not Danny DeSoto. "When a DeSoto gives his word, that means something," he'd always told his kids. Yessir, a DeSoto's word was his bond and as far as it depended on him, he always kept it.

Like Roy, Danny DeSoto had lost a limb. The wounds he'd received trying to rescue RC had gone gangrenous, necessitating amputation of his right arm. The loss had meant giving up his dream of becoming a surgeon, but he didn't really mind — as he later told Roy, he had seen enough injury and death in Italy to last him a lifetime and he would not have gone back to med school even if he had come home with both arms.

It took some time, figuring out what he was meant to do. Art hadn't been his first thought. Without his dominant hand, he'd struggled to learn to write legibly. But one day his brother David showed up with a set of paints and brushes and a roll of butcher paper. As Danny practiced painting with his left hand, he steadily gained increased control, and before long, his handwriting also improved. By the time Roy was ready to start school, Danny DeSoto had moved the family from Sonoma to Norwalk to be close to Harriet's parents, and he opened a small art shop catering to tourists in Long Beach. Between his veteran's pension and his proceeds from the shop, he did a fair job supporting his family. They didn't have money for a lot of extras, but there was always food on the table, a house to live in, and decent clothing on their backs. "I'm no Da Vinci," he'd once told Roy, "but the world doesn't need another Da Vinci. What it needs is a handful of DeSotos." Then he'd glanced at Harriet, who was pregnant with her third child by that time, and grinned and waggled his bushy black eyebrows. "Maybe half a dozen DeSotos." There had only been three DeSoto kids, not a half a dozen. And about six months after baby Margaret was born, it was just two again. Roy barely remembered Margaret.

"I wish you were here, Dad," Roy murmured as he gazed out the window at an afternoon sky that the elder DeSoto would have loved trying to capture on canvas. About a minute later, a soft knock sounded at the door, and then the hinges creaked. Roy turned his chair, and his heart caught in his throat as he caught sight of JoAnne standing in the doorway. She hesitated for only the barest moment before crossing the room to wrap her arms around him.

His eyes welled up with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair and covered his face with her kisses. "Never forget that I love you, Roy DeSoto," she whispered in his ear. "We can get through anything together."

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*Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio was an Italian painter who lived from 1571 - 1610. He was noted for his style which employed dark shadows and bright shafts of light. Caravaggio preferred to present his subjects realistically, with all their flaws, rather than idealizing them. He was known to have a violent and tempestuous personality, spent time in jail for brawling, and went into exile after killing a man in a duel.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Celebrate with me, dear readers! I just got home about an hour ago from welcoming my granddaughter Serenity to the world! She's 6 lbs 10 oz, 19 inches long, and absolutely beautiful, and this Gramma is totally in love.**

 **What better way to celebrate than with a new chapter for you all? After a heavily emotional chapter devoted to Roy and Jo, I offer you a chapter devoted to Taffy, Dixie, and Kel. Roy will return in my next chapter. At first I had intended this chapter to be a bit lighter, but it got pretty emotional too.**

 **Thank you for your messages and kind reviews. I love hearing from my readers! Guest (is that you, Marbo? I think so, but you didn't give your name this time), I'm glad you like the reference to Caravaggio and to his use of light. It seemed to fit well after the conversation Roy had with Murdock. Originally, I had actually been thinking of Canaletto, but for some reason the name Caravaggio was stuck in my head. Then I looked him up and realized he was perfect for my purposes.**

 **Thank you to Piscean6724 and katbybee, my beta readers extraordinaire. You ladies are awesome!**

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Feeling well-rested and eager to see Dixie again, Taffy stepped through the doors into Rampart Emergency. He noted the flowers he had sent earlier that morning sitting on the counter of the reception desk, the card still in its envelope, perched on the holder that stuck out of the arrangement. Dr. Early stood near the desk talking with a nurse. Dixie was nowhere in sight.

 _Must be in with a patient,_ he told himself as he approached the desk. Dana Cook looked up from her paperwork and her eyes widened, then settled into a frosty glare. Only then did it strike Taffy that his unusual proposal the other day must have set the rumor mill in motion. And if rumors ran through this hospital the way they did back at Stalag 13, embellished with every telling, there must be some real doozies going around.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning, Mrs. Cook. Is Nurse McCall available?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Matthews. Nurse McCall is on vacation just now. I'm not quite sure when she'll be back." Though she remained professional, Dana's cold reception made it quite clear to Taffy that at least one member of Rampart's staff was not pleased with his presence.

Before Taffy could respond, Dr. Early sauntered over, greeting the Welshman with his equanimous smile and a hand on the shoulder. "Good morning, Mr. Matthews. I've got a few minutes. Why don't I buy you a cup of coffee in the lounge?"

"Certainly, Dr. Early… but please, call me Taffy."

"Only if you call me Joe." As they made their way down the hall toward the lounge, Joe continued talking. "Dixie called in a week's vacation, I suppose to think over your proposal. You know…" He chuckled. "You've really got the place hopping with rumors. Half the staff believe you challenged Dr. Brackett to a fistfight in the parking lot."

Taffy shook his head. "I'm not surprised about the rumors, but a fistfight? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Well, I know you wouldn't. But a number of the nurses are convinced that Dixie and Kel belong together, and they're not exactly pleased to see an interloper competing for her affections."

"Dixie and… Dr. Brackett?" Taffy's eyes narrowed and he frowned. "I was given to understand that their attachment was a thing of the distant past."

"Oh, it was." Joe opened the door to the lounge and waved Taffy through ahead of him. "But you've got to understand… sometimes it takes a potential rival to make a man see what he's missing."

"True enough." Taffy sighed. "Well, I suppose Dixie must decide for herself. But I don't want to cause strife for Dr. Brackett. Perhaps I should go back to the hotel and let Dixie call me when she gets back." He accepted a cup of coffee from Joe. "Um… do you know when that will be?"

"She took a week's vacation, but she's scheduled for a late shift tonight." Joe poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip. "That means she'll be home sometime today." He looked up and met Taffy's gaze, his expression suddenly deadly serious. "You need to know something, Taffy. Dixie is a very dear friend to many of us at Rampart. We won't stand for anyone hurting her."

Taffy nodded. "Good. Because neither will I." He was about to take a drink of his own coffee but stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. "Tell me, Joe… do you disapprove of my proposal?"

Joe took another sip of his coffee. "Do you love her?"

"With all my heart," Taffy said, quite serious. "And I'd like to spend the years I have left making sure she knows it."

"Then no. I don't disapprove. I just want Dixie to be happy. Kel too, of course — he's my best friend, after all. But he's resilient. If Dixie marries you, I imagine he'll be morose for a while, but he'll pull through." Just as he took his third sip, a call came across the intercom, summoning him to Treatment Three. He poured out his coffee and set the cup on the counter with a chuckle. "Three sips, never more. That's always the way it goes. I'll see you later, Taffy."

Taffy raised his coffee mug in a salute as Joe hurried back to his work. With a long sigh, he settled himself on the sofa to finish his drink. Finally, he washed and dried both cups and set them back in the cabinet. He would go visit Roy for a few minutes and decide what to do from there.

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Dixie waved goodbye to Trudy as her friend boarded the train to head home to Sacramento. Instead of spending the entire week up north, they'd come back to Los Angeles together and had a wonderful time. They attended a jazz concert at the Greek Theatre and spent the next day at Disneyland. As they strolled through New Orleans Square, Dixie imagined bringing Taffy there and enjoying a leisurely lunch at the Blue Bayou. The last full day of Trudy's visit, they spent shopping on Rodeo Drive. Trish had a day off and joined them, and they found Dixie a stunning brocade wedding gown. She tried it on and it fit perfectly, no alterations required, and Dixie found herself tearing up as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She had all but given up on marriage after Adam died. Her dreams had been renewed a couple of times… first with Raymond Boyd, and then when she was seeing Kel, but over the years, that hope had faded away and almost died. But now? Now she had Taffy, and she would finally walk down the aisle, bouquet in hand. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" she whispered.

"I could always pinch you to find out." Trudy joked. Her grin softened to a dreamy smile as she trailed her fingers lightly along the length of the lacy sleeve. "You are going to be a beautiful bride, Dixie. I'm so happy for you."

As Dixie threw her arms around Trudy and uttered a soft, "Thank you, Tru," she felt a mix of guilt and sorrow surge through her on her friend's behalf. Tru's husband, Bill, had walked out on her about five years ago and neither she nor Trish had heard from the man since. Trudy refused to talk about him and showed no sign that Dixie's joyous news stirred up any sadness in her at all.

In fact, Trudy had insisted on buying her the dress. Dixie tried to dissuade her, but Tru wouldn't hear it. "You've been like a sister to me ever since Korea, Dix. Let me do this for you." She'd purchased it right off the rack and even paid for it to be delivered to Dixie's door, so they wouldn't have to worry about carrying it around with them the rest of the day.

And now Trudy was on her way back home. Dixie watched until the train was out of sight, then headed back to her car. Her hand reached into her jacket pocket and her fingers wrapped around the ring box. She hoped she would see Taffy soon so she could give him her answer.

Back at the apartment building, when she stepped out of the elevator and turned down the corridor to her place, her heart beat a little faster at the sight of someone standing at her door. He carried a bouquet of flowers so big, it hid most of his upper portion from her view; she didn't realize who it was until he shifted it around to free up a hand so he could ring the bell.

"Taffy!" She immediately regretted shouting his name down the hall — she could just hear her mother's stern reprimand. _A true lady never raises her voice, Dixie Anne, except when circumstances of great danger require it._ From the look on Taffy's face, though, he didn't think any less of her. She had already broken Mother's rule number one; why not break number two — _A true lady never runs; she walks calmly and sedately, keeping a measured pace_ — as well? She quickened her pace, even as he set the flowers down and stepped toward her.

"My dearest Dixie," he murmured as he caught her in his arms.

Dixie gazed into his eyes, entranced by the whole universe of love that shone in his expression. "The answer is yes, Valentine Matthews," she breathed out. "Yes, I will marry you."

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Kel checked his watch for the third time. He hated delays. His flight out of National had been scheduled for 11:00 a.m. They'd boarded on time, but here it was nearing one in the afternoon and they were still sitting on the tarmac, waiting for a repair to some minor mechanical problem. Every twenty minutes or so, the pilot would come across the intercom with a calm reassurance that they would be on their way as soon as possible.

The stewardesses had made their way up and down the aisle a couple of times, handing out packages of peanuts and pouring drinks. Thankful that for once no one was seated next to him, Kel had waved them by, uninterested in anything now but getting off the ground and headed for home.

He held a wrapped package that Lydia had pressed into his hands as he bid her and Denny farewell at the gate. He could tell from the shape and feel of it that it was a book. He tore away the paper and stuffed it back into his bag, which he placed under the seat again, then looked at the cover of the worn leather-bound volume: _The Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson._ Though clearly an older edition, it looked to be in excellent condition. With a wry chuckle, Kel opened the book. He'd never been much for poetry — at least not this kind; give him some Bruce Kiskaddon* and his _Rhymes of the Range_ or Curley Fletcher's* _The Strawberry Roan,_ and he'd be a happy man, and Lydia knew it. But she must have had a reason for choosing this book for him.

Inside the front cover, she had scrawled a note. _Kelly, wherever you may go, you are always in our hearts. Love, Lydia_ and _Denny Schwartz._ Under the message, she had written a page number. He flipped through the pages until he came to the poem she'd referenced: _In Memoriam A.H.H._ He read through a couple of stanzas, grimacing at the images they called up… a caged bird, a wanton beast… so the poet didn't envy them. Kel didn't either, but he didn't see much point in rhapsodizing over it. What was Lydia thinking, giving him this? He snapped the book shut, but a moment later opened it and found the page again to read the rest of the poem.

With the final stanza, his scowl softened. The words were familiar, but he'd never seen them in their full context. He read it through several times, then reread the full poem, this time with an eye to seeking out the meaning Lydia wanted him to gain. When he had finished, he closed the book and put it in his bag, then glanced out the window just in time to see what looked like a maintenance truck pulling away from the plane.

A few seconds later, a staticky voice came over the intercom. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain. I apologize for the delay. The repairs are completed and we are now cleared to get underway. Please stow your belongings under the seat in front of you, fasten your seatbelts, and give your attention to the flight attendants as they present our safety demonstration."

Kel had watched the safety demonstration dozens of times, so he let his mind wander while the flight attendant went over the instructions about oxygen masks and emergency landings. The final stanza of the poem remained stuck in his mind.

 _I hold it true,_ whate'er _befall;_  
 _I feel_ it, _when I sorrow most;_  
 _'Tis better to have loved and lost_  
 _Than never to have loved at all._

Tennyson's words made him wonder, was he better off having loved Dixie, even if he had lost her? He supposed he was. The younger nurses — all suffering from what appeared to be terminal Bracketitis — might not believe it, but loving Dixie had developed in Kel greater patience and understanding. Without Lydia there to keep him humble, he had come out of his residency at Mayo a brash and arrogant man, fully convinced of his own superiority. He'd met Dixie when he moved to California to take a position as an attending physician in Rampart's brand-new Emergency Department. She'd been brought over from Pediatrics to take over as head nurse in Emergency, and she had little patience for the know-it-all new attending. To say sparks flew was an understatement.

They had despised one another at first. Kel disdained the nurses; Dixie was determined to teach him respect. She had no qualms about taking him down a peg whenever he needed it — and he needed it often. Looking back, he couldn't pinpoint exactly when his feelings had begun to shift from hostility to admiration, but sometime before the end of his first year they had called a truce and begun forging a friendship. In many ways, Dixie had taken Lydia's place in his life. The difference was, Dixie had never felt like a sister to him. In fact, once they had become friends, it wasn't more than a few months before he was absolutely head-over-heels in love.

Like Lydia, Dixie made him want to be a better man. When he got too sure of himself, she forced him to listen to the other side, and she never hesitated to let him know when she thought he was wrong. He'd have saved himself a lot of grief over the years if he'd been quicker to recognize that Dixie was almost always right, but even after he fell in love, he certainly didn't want her to think he was a pushover.

Now he thought back to when their relationship had first begun to go off the rails… back when he was so damned opposed to that paramedic bill going through. He'd said things then that he still regretted, and he'd fought her tooth and nail on it, but she held firm and he quietly admired that even in the heat of the fray. And before long, there he was in Sacramento arguing in favor of the bill, convincing the state legislators to pass it through to the governor.

Kel frowned, his brow furrowing and his eyes darkening as the plane taxied down the runway. Had he ever apologized to Dix for those days, for all the trouble he'd given her? His anger and brooding? Or had he simply taken it for granted that she knew he was sorry? He hated to admit he was guilty of the latter, but he knew it was true.

Lydia was right. He needed to mend fences with Dixie, regardless of what she chose to do. And if she chose Taffy, well — then he needed to find the strength inside himself to let her go without rancor. He still wasn't sure he could handle staying at Rampart in that case, but at least they needed to part as friends.

Not long after they were in the air, Kel was sound asleep. He hadn't slept well since witnessing Taffy's proposal, but now that he had things at least somewhat figured out, exhaustion overtook him. He didn't stir until the stewardess gently shook his shoulder and informed him that they were preparing to descend into LA and he needed to put his seat back up.

They arrived at LAX about 4:30 in the afternoon. Kel could have gone straight home from the airport, but he'd been away from work for almost a week. No one expected him this evening, but he decided to make an appearance. Maybe Dixie would be back and he could talk with her. He didn't want to put it off. He caught a cab outside the airport and about 45 minutes later, he walked through the doors of Rampart Emergency. Dixie wasn't there, but he checked the schedule and saw that she would come on shift at 9:00 p.m. Eager to keep busy until she arrived, Kel pulled on his lab coat and went to work.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Later that evening, Taffy settled into bed at his hotel. He and Dixie had spent a wonderful afternoon together, walking on the beach, and then celebrated their engagement with an excellent dinner (at Miceli's, of course) before she had to go to Rampart for the overnight shift.

As much as he enjoyed his time with her, by the time they parted, he'd been ready to turn in. He felt a bit under the weather. In fact, Dixie had remarked on how quiet he was during dinner. He'd squeezed her hand and told her that he was just tired, that was all, but as he situated his pillow against the headboard and leaned back, it seemed like more than that. Maybe he'd picked up a bug on the plane. He was generally healthy and even back at the Stalag rarely ever got sick, but he was older now, so anything was possible.

He had gotten into the habit of reading and drinking a cup of tea before bed. He was reaching for the cup on the bedside table when the first vague twinge of pain skittered through his chest. He noticed it but ignored it. Over the course of the next hour, he felt it a few more times, the pain getting a bit more intense each time. Still, he wasn't that concerned, thinking perhaps he had strained a muscle in his back. It wasn't until he felt a tingling and pain shoot down his arm that he became alarmed, but not too upset. He still figured it was nothing terribly serious.

He thought about calling Dixie, but he didn't want to worry her. Instead, he pulled Matthew Carter's card out of his wallet. Matt had written his number at the station on the back of the card in case Taffy needed to reach him while he was on shift, which Taffy thought he was today. Better to be safe than sorry, he thought as he reached for the phone and dialed for an outside line.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Matthew Carter heard Cap groan when the phone rang around midnight. 51's C Shift's day had been long and grueling with a lot of responses, and they had all hoped for a quiet night even if they didn't dare voice it. Their last response had hit Matthew especially hard, leaving him exhausted and a bit depressed. He and Bowman had been called to a nearby house for an infant girl who wasn't breathing, and they hadn't succeeded in reviving her. He hated those calls.

The phone call in the middle of the night made him catch in a breath. Most folks didn't make calls at this hour unless there was an emergency, but if that was the case, why not just call 9-1-1?

"Station 51," Cap said. "Captain Mike Stoker speaking."

A moment later, Cap was calling Matt to the phone. He held the receiver out. "It's a Valentine Matthews." Matt knew that normally, Cap would have expressed his disapproval of one of his men getting a call at midnight, but this time he just said, "Hurry, Matt… it sounds serious."

Matthew crossed the bunk room in a few quick strides and took the phone. "Is that you, Taffy? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, m'boy. Just curious about something. Havin' a wee bit of pain in m' chest. Wondered if you could recommend anything for it… bicarbonate or some such… maybe an aspirin, or a wee drop of brandy?"

Matthew frowned. Taffy's voice sounded all wrong, like he couldn't quite catch his breath. His mind went immediately to the possibility of a heart attack, but he wasn't about to mention that on the phone. "Your chest? Taffy… are you at the hotel? I think we need to come check on you."

"No, no, I'll be goin' to Rampart to see my fiancée tomorrow. I'll have one of the docs check me out then. I just —"

The word fiancée only vaguely registered. Matthew filed it away as something to ask about later. "Taffy, tell me… does your left arm hurt?"

There was a pause. "Perhaps a wee bit, but —" Suddenly Taffy cried out as if in pain. "Dear God in Heaven!" There was a crashing sound… and then silence, except for an ominous buzzing tone from the phone. They'd been disconnected.

Matthew slammed the receiver down and ran to pull on his turnouts and boots. As he crossed the room, he called to Stoker. "Cap… possible heart attack. Call it in as a still alarm. Holiday Inn,** cross streets Vermont and Francisco. Can Dispatch get us a room number? C'mon, Bowman! We've gotta go!"

Bowman was up and moving quickly, and in record time, the crew was climbing into engine and squad. Matthew hit the reds and they turned onto the street, on their way to Taffy.

When they reached the hotel, the night manager was waiting outside, ready to show them to Taffy's room and let them in. Matthew pushed his way past his cohorts and was the first to see Taffy stretched out on the floor. The phone lay next to him, off the hook. Matthew went to his knees and began assessing the man's condition. "Jim, get on the line to Rampart. Bowman, set up to send them a strip while I get his vitals." He shook Taffy's shoulder. "Taffy… Taffy… can you hear me?"

There was no response at all from Taffy, and his vital signs were very poor. Worse, he was cyanotic and diaphoretic. Matthew swallowed hard as the grim realization struck him that this close friend of his family was about as close to dead as he could get without actually dying.

While Bowman started chest compressions and Mike bagged Taffy, Matthew relayed the information to the hospital. "Rampart, we have a male victim, age 70. He collapsed after complaining of chest pain. He is not responding to painful stimuli. We are bagging him and doing chest compressions now." He reeled off the vitals and visible symptoms.

Dixie responded. "Acknowledged, 51. A doctor is on the way."

They waited less than a minute for Joe Early's voice to come across the biophone. "51, send us a strip."

"10-4, Rampart. This will be lead one."

Thankfully, the hotel wasn't far from the hospital. Once they got Taffy's IV started and had him bundled into the ambulance, it took them only four minutes to cover the distance. Matthew insisted on riding with him, and Captain Stoker didn't waste time arguing. Matt kept a hand on Taffy's shoulder the entire drive, urging him to hang in there.

The first face he saw when they arrived and the ambulance doors were flung open was Dixie's. Matthew was vaguely aware of the friendship between Dixie and Taffy, but hadn't even thought about it until this moment, when suddenly Taffy's meaning when he spoke of his fiancée struck him hard. He helped maneuver the gurney through the doors, then hopped down behind it. "Dix… it's Taffy."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Valentine?" Dixie's eyes widened in shock as she looked from Taffy's ashen face to the diamond on her hand… the one she had been admiring every time she looked at it. The one several of her friends had been gushing over. Her Taffy? The massive MCI? That wasn't possible… that was... obscene! She lifted pain-filled eyes to Joe. She knew he had spoken to her, but she hadn't actually registered what he said.

She watched as Joe moved to the patient's side. "Get him to Treatment One, and get Kel in there," he barked, then fixed his gaze briefly on Dixie. "Let Betty help me with this one, Dix. We'll take good care of him."

Dixie stood rooted to the spot for a moment, watching as the team whisked Taffy away. She should move. She knew she should. She had to move. But… she couldn't. Not a muscle. She felt as frozen as if she were encased in cement. She just stared at her diamond and cried silent tears.

An arm slid around her shoulders and she turned slowly to see Alex Bowman standing beside her. "Dix? You all right?"

"No. I… I really don't think I am." She swallowed a sob. _It's happening again… just like with Adam. I don't understand._

"C'mon," Alex said, and he gently guided her toward the door. Unable to propel herself forward, she leaned on him and allowed him to maneuver her. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee," he offered as he walked her into Rampart and to the nurses' lounge.

After a long silence, Dixie looked over at Alex. "It's usually me making the coffee. Somehow, it's not helping right now. I'm sorry."

The young paramedic set the coffee cup he'd been about to fill back in the cabinet and turned to Dixie. "I've heard some rumors over the last week… never know quite what to believe, though. Is Taffy the one who proposed to you?"

Dixie drew a deep breath. "He is, and then he had to leave town before I gave him my answer. He came back and I answered." She waggled her left hand. "I love him. And I am very afraid I'm going to lose him."

"Don't lose hope, Dix. Dr. Early's the best, and the cardiac team will take good care of him." He pulled Dixie into an awkward hug, then stepped back. "We're all pulling for him."

"I know. And I appreciate it. But, if you don't mind, I think I need to be alone right now."

"You got it, Dix. And… well… I'm really sorry." Alex ducked his head, then straightened up as the radio crackled to life.

"51, what is your status?"

"51, available at Rampart." He shrugged up a shoulder. "Bye, Dix. We'll be praying for him." And then he sprinted out of the room to find Matthew.

Dixie would thank Matthew later. Right now, she needed to get her emotions under control. She felt a powerful urge to talk with God about this, but at the moment she knew all she would do is bawl Him out. Suddenly, Taffy's voice sounded in her mind. _He can handle your anger, Dixie. He'd rather you let Him have it than not talk to Him at all._ Well, she would let Him have it all right!

She stood in the middle of the lounge, noticing all of a sudden that it was a mess. Normally, she would be planning a stern lecture for the responsible parties, but she had always found cleaning therapeutic when she was angry or troubled. This mess was just what she needed. She could give God a piece of her mind while she worked.

"How dare you!" she seethed at the Almighty as she scrubbed a wet, soapy washcloth over a sticky stain on the table. "First Adam and now Taffy? I don't understand! Such good men! What do you have against them?! What do you have against me?!" She kept her voice low, not wanting to attract attention outside the lounge. God was the only one who needed to hear her vindictive diatribe. Still muttering angrily, she moved from the now-sparkling-clean table to the dirty dishes in the sink. She ran the sink full of hot soapy water and began to scrub at the silverware, plates, and coffee cups. "And while we're talking about good men, God," she said as she finished rinsing the last mug and set to rubbing it dry with a soft towel, "what You let happen to Roy stinks. His leg and… in Vietnam… And I'm supposed to believe you love us?! And the one person who might help me understand it all… Oh, God… please, don't let him die." The mug slipped from her hands and she hardly noticed when it shattered at her feet.

"Dixie?"

She whirled around, startled by the familiar voice that had spoken her name. She knew Kel had come in tonight, but it had been a busy evening and she hadn't actually seen him yet. Now he was kneeling in front of her, picking up the pieces of broken mug and tossing them into a nearby trash can. "Kel," she said softly, her voice almost breaking. Mother's rule number three… _A lady never cries in front of people. She saves her tears for the privacy of home._ But she couldn't help it. The tears came in a flood, and she didn't fight Kel when he stood up again and wrapped his arms around her and led her to the sofa.

"Taffy's in rough shape, but for now he's holding his own. Dr. Ferguson just arrived from cardiology to evaluate him. You know Don will do everything he can to pull him through. Joe… um… was called away to take care of a kid with a spinal cord injury, so… I said I'd find you." Kel's soft, earnest tone surprised Dixie. She could see the love in his eyes and that just about broke her heart, but he wasn't pleading with her or trying to change her mind. He was just there, caring about her and trying to help her through this crisis.

Maybe he didn't know about her engagement yet. But everyone at Rampart had been talking about it from the moment she arrived, wearing the ring, so there was little chance he hadn't heard. Besides, he was holding her hands. He had to have seen the ring for himself, but he hadn't said anything about it. She felt incredibly small, sitting there with Kelly Brackett, caring about him, hating that she'd hurt him, but also loving Taffy and longing to be with him. "I said yes, Kel. I… I'm sorry that hurts you," she said, and she blinked her eyes to try to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "But I do love him. Can you forgive me?"

He smiled softly. "Dix, you haven't done anything wrong. I'm the one who should be asking you that question. There's a lot I need to apologize for, but maybe that should wait until a better time. Right now isn't about me… it's about you and Taffy. I want you to know, whatever happens… I respect your decision and I hope you'll still consider me your friend." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Dix… I came in today because I wanted to talk with you tonight about a lot of things… but… well… I guess instead I'll just ask what you need. The rest can wait for later."

Dixie shuddered as she sucked in a breath. "Thank you, Kel. I... I need to stay busy until I can sit with him. And…" Her eyes met his as she pulled her hands away from him. "I need the best doctor I know in there with Taffy instead of sitting here with me. Thank you for coming to update me, but please… go back to him. I know Ferguson is good, but I'd feel better if you were in there. We will talk later, I promise."

He reached a hand toward her face, but then pulled it away again, offering her a sad smile instead. "You got it, Dix. I promise, we'll take good care of him. Tina's on her way in to cover for you, but if you really need to keep busy, Joe's in Treatment Three. I'm sure he could use your help." He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but instead he stood and hurried away.

She watched him go, her heart sinking as she fingered the diamond ring she wore. If… _No,_ she told herself, Not if _. When._ When she married Taffy, she would move away to Paris and leave Rampart behind. She couldn't stand the thought of being around Kel on a daily basis, seeing that hurt in his eyes and knowing she put it there. But she would always miss him, probably always wonder what would have happened if she had stayed. She sighed heavily as she moved from the sofa to the sink and washed her face, then checked her reflection in her compact. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but at least she had managed to staunch the flow of tears. She closed her eyes for a minute and sucked in a deep breath, then hurried out the door to meet Joe in Treatment Three.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Notes

*Bruce Kiskaddon and Curley Fletcher were 20th century cowboy poets. I thought including them would be a nice nod to Robert Fuller's penchant for acting in westerns.

**I don't know whether the Holiday Inn currently at this location existed in 1983, but I decided I could take a little license and imagine it did.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: This chapter represents a true collaborative effort by katbybee and myself. She provided most of the dialogue for Taffy, as well as the letter he writes. Thank you, Kat — your participation has really enriched this chapter! Thank you also to Piscean for reading and encouraging and catching the little things I miss! I am truly grateful to have the two of you as friends and writing buddies.**

 **Marbo, I apologize for the cliff-hangers in the previous chapters. Well… actually… it's kind of fun, leaving you hanging! :P As Johnny says in the Show Biz episode, "Leave them wanting more!"**

 **My husband and I are enjoying his fall break at the moment, and yesterday we visited Virginia City, NV. Now I've got all sorts of inspiration for another Emergency fanfic! Virginia City boasts a Firemen's Museum with several old engines that Roy and Johnny would definitely drool over. My favorite story from the museum was about the first fire in the city being put out by people pelting it with snowballs. There are also signs all over the place about the dangers of abandoned mines. Yes… I do think a story about Gage and DeSoto visiting Virginia City may be necessary! But that's for the future. For now, we need to finish up this story!**

 **10/22: After reading through this chapter again, I noticed a number of things I had intended to correct but never did. Therefore I am posting an edited version. Nothing substantive has been changed, though I've tried to clean up the writing a bit and take out some repetitive bits and add a couple of words that had somehow been lost.**

 **Thank you to 6of7 for the note in your review about the correct Welsh term for Dad — after researching the matter, I have changed da to tad. According to my research, the term boyo, however, is used in Wales, though not as commonly now as in the past. Therefore I have left that as is.**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy sat in his wheelchair beside Taffy's bed, his head bowed and his good hand resting on the older man's arm. He felt awkward praying out loud, but it seemed like the right thing to do. "God… Jo's better at talkin' to you than I am, but here I am anyway. I don't have lots of flowery words. I just… we're not ready to let Taffy go, God. So, please don't take him just yet." He opened his eyes and glanced over at the spare bed in Taffy's room. Dixie lay stretched out there, sleeping fitfully. Early and Brackett had both threatened to have her banned from Taffy's room if she didn't get a little rest. Roy had been in for a visit after his physical therapy and overheard the whole exchange. Only when he promised to stay for a while and wake her if anything happened did she finally relent.

He looked Taffy over with an appraising eye. Though not particularly tall, the scrappy Welshman had always been solidly built, and had boasted as recently as their reunion in Paris that he could still take Carter or Newkirk or even Anton in a wrestling match any time they cared to try. Today, though, he just looked old and frail.

In the two days since his heart attack, Taffy's vitals had improved somewhat and he was breathing on his own, even if a bit roughly. An EEG indicated normal brain function, but he'd shown no sign as yet of regaining consciousness.

"I owe him a lot, God," Roy said softly. "And I've never really thanked him. If You'd just give me the chance—"

"Well, who's stoppin' ya, lad?"

Startled, Roy sat up straight at the sound of Taffy's voice — rough and raspy, barely a whisper, but stubborn as ever. "Taffy! You're awake!" He grinned as he leaned forward slightly to press the call button to summon the nurse. "You sure gave us a scare!"

Taffy blinked his eyes open for a second, but they quickly sank shut again as he drifted back into sleep. Roy gently squeezed his arm. "Thank you, Taff," he said softly just as the nurse stepped in.

"You called, Captain DeSoto?" she asked.

"Yeah… he woke up. Just for a minute, but he responded to something I said. Could you let the doctor know?"

"Of course. Dr. Ferguson is on rounds now, and will be stopping here before long. I'll page Dr. Early." She took a moment to check and record Taffy's vitals before heading back to the nurse's station.

"Thanks," Roy said as she left. Then he turned to glance at Dixie, who was now sitting up. "Hey, Dix. He was awake for just a few seconds. The docs should be in soon."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Thank you, Roy." Dixie stifled a yawn as she crossed the room to stand by Taffy's bed. "I appreciate you staying. How are you doing?" She dropped a kiss on Taffy's forehead and stroked a stray hair from his brow.

"I'm OK," he said. "Gettin' better all the time." Roy gave her a slow smile, and Dixie's heart swelled. She really did care about all the paramedics she had worked with over the years, but Roy and Johnny were special. She knew the last several weeks had been beyond tough for Roy. She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, then sat down in the chair by the bed.

"Roy, I…" She paused to consider her words. "Well… I have a confession to make. A couple weeks ago, when you were talking to Anton… well… I accidentally overheard what you told him. About when you were a POW, I mean." Her eyes misted and she reached to grip his hand. "I thought you ought to know… I'm… so sorry."

She sought his gaze for any indication that he was angry at her, but she saw none. Surprise, yes, and regret… sorrow. But no anger, no resentment.

"I'm sorry, too," he finally said. "Sorry you were burdened with that. It's bad enough it had to happen."

"If you ever need to talk, Roy, you know I'm here."

He nodded. "I know. I probably won't take you up on it, but it means a lot, just knowing I could. Thank you, Dix."

Their discussion was cut short by the arrival of Joe Early. He gave Roy a genial nod and Dixie a squeeze of the shoulder before checking Taffy's chart.

"He's looking much better, Dix." Joe hung the chart up again at the end of the bed. "His vitals are much improved. I think we can safely say he's out of danger for the moment."

"Thanks, Joe." Dixie glanced at her ring again, then reached for Taffy's hand. She hoped he knew she was there, that he could feel her love, and she wished that somehow she could will him back to health. "Roy said he woke up for just a few seconds."

"I don't think it will be long before he's awake again. As you know, though, right now rest and sleep are what he needs most. Listen, I need to finish my rounds." Joe patted Dixie on the shoulder. "I'll be back with Dr. Ferguson in a little bit." He turned to Roy. "You're first on my list, Roy… how about I take you upstairs and we'll see how you're healing. You can tell me about that new dog of yours on the way up… I hear she's giving Jo fits."

"Sure, Doc." Roy chuckled. "And yeah… Jo says she seems to be on a mission to devour the world."

With a wave to Dixie, Joe pushed Roy out into the hall, leaving her and Taffy alone.

Dixie sighed heavily. "Time to wake up again, my dear Valentine," she said softly, and she squeezed his hand.

To Dixie's everlasting surprise, Taffy blinked a few times and opened his eyes, though he seemed to have a hard time focusing on her at first.

"Dix… Dixie?" His voice was weak and raspy.

"Shh… you're at Rampart. You had a heart attack, but you're out of danger now." She filled a cup of water and held the straw to his mouth. "Just a little sip."

Taffy drank a small sip, then lay back. His brow furrowed. "I don't remember… anything about it. I remember the hotel… coming back from Washington, and seeing you…." He smiled at her. "Your answer… but after that… nothing."

"You called Matthew, told him you were having a little chest pain… then you dropped the phone." Dixie had heard the story directly from Matthew when he'd come in after his shift ended. "And I don't mind saying, Valentine Matthews…" Her voice turned stern. "It scared the hell out of me, seeing them bring you off the ambulance!" But then she softened. "God and I had a long conversation about that."

Taffy smiled. "Well, He and I had a bit of a chat, too, I think."

Dixie bent to brush her lips against his. "And now you have to get well so that we can start making our plans." She checked her watch and sighed. "My shift starts in fifteen minutes, so I have to go, but first I'll find Joe and let him know you're really awake now, and I'll be back to see you as soon as I can take a break."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy watched as Dixie left the room. There was something he needed to discuss with the cardiologist before he would even consider making any more wedding plans, something he had not shared with Dixie, because it had simply never come up before. But now — now, it was something he couldn't avoid any longer. And as happy as Taffy had been a few days earlier, at the moment, he almost wished he had never met Dixie McCall.

Joe arrived about half an hour later with a younger red-headed doctor at his side. "Taffy, it's good to see you awake. I'd like to introduce Dr. Ferguson, our chief of cardiology."

Taffy nodded as he studied their faces, trying to determine just what sort of news they brought. "Just the man I wanted to see. Let me cut to the chase here… how much do either of you know about the coal mining towns in Wales, say, 50 or 60 years ago?"

"Specifically, not a lot," Dr. Ferguson admitted. "However, I have read about high rates of coronary and pulmonary disease among coal miners."

"I've seen it firsthand," Early added. "Not in Wales, but in West Virginia. I spent a few months there as part of an exchange during my residency. Supposed to give us big-city doctors a look at conditions we might not see otherwise. Pneumoconiosis was a real problem there, otherwise known as black lung disease."

Taffy nodded. "Yes — black lung is the big killer." He turned his eyes to Ferguson. "Heart problems are common too. My point is, I grew up in those mines, and I know my lungs are in bad shape. You've probably figured that out already. I have a great immune system, so I've stayed pretty healthy up to now, despite the fact I smoked like a chimney as a kid — we all did, ya know. But I was sent to the mines when I was seven."

Joe's jaw dropped. "Seven? They allowed a child that young to work the mines?!"

"Officially, no. It was illegal for children under 10,* but the wages we brought in kept our families from starvin' so we figured lyin' about our ages was better than dyin'. I worked underground till I was in my teens… not what me tad wanted… but not much else for it back then. When I was old enough, I joined the RAF and got out. Anyway, as I was saying… my lungs are lousy… and now with this heart attack, I figure my prospects aren't likely all that good."

Arms crossed over his chest, Joe had listened intently to Taffy's story, nodding from time to time. "As a matter of fact, Taffy, we did discover just that. I'm surprised you've managed as well as you have, given the state of your lungs."

"Exactly," Dr. Ferguson chimed in, "and that is putting strain on your heart. Mr. Matthews, there is no cure for black lung disease. But with proper treatment and if you comply with our recommendations, we can slow the progression somewhat and ease the stress on your heart. It's going to take time, though, and —"

Taffy snorted. "Time… there's the rub. In case you haven't read your actuary tables lately, Doctor, I'm on the downhill slide here. No insurance agent is gonna come knockin' on my door to sell me a policy, if you take my meaning." He turned to Joe, mindful of the brief discussion they'd had over coffee recently. "I have no business getting married when I'm looking at being laid up for a good part of the years I have left, or at least being severely limited during part of it. I know the routine. Limitations on travel… on diet...on exercise… hell, even on sex. That ain't no way for a fella to treat his best gal, to put it in American terms. I am not gonna have Dixie worrying about me every time I walk out the door. I also know I'm at huge risk for another heart attack. I can't do that to her. I won't do that to her. I love her too much for that."

Joe's deep frown pulled his forehead into a mass of wrinkles. "Mr. Matthews, do you know that Dixie has barely left your side since you were brought in? She hasn't even been home since that night!"

Taffy nodded and sighed. "I believe it. I know she loves me and I love her. And that is precisely why I have to let her go. You think this is something I want to do?" The pain in his eyes was terrible.

"No. I don't think that at all." Joe's tone softened as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Taffy, couldn't having Dixie in your life help you recover? Loving her would give you something positive to keep you going."

Taffy scrubbed a hand across his face. "I do not want her to be my nurse. I wanted her to be free of all of that… I wanted to show her Paris and Rome and Hawaii and all the other places we talked about. I wanted to take her all over the world… do things we've both only dreamed of. Skiing in the Alps, hang gliding… did you know she wanted to take me parasailing? Something new she read about… they do it down in Acapulco. Now, Doc… you tell me. Do you think that's something I will ever be able to do now? No. I won't. I want Dixie as my wife… not Nurse McCall as my caretaker."

Joe sighed heavily and glanced at Dr. Ferguson, who shook his head, his expression grave. "Realistically, you're right, Taffy. You can't do those things. Your lifestyle is going to have to change drastically. But I can tell you this much — for Dixie, all of that is just icing on the cake." He chuckled. "She would enjoy all that… I'd get a real kick out of seeing her parasailing. But Taffy, it's you she wants… not the exciting destinations and the adventurous escapades. She loves you. At least think about it."

Taffy shook his head and then looked at Dr. Early. "I have thought about it. Dixie shouldn't have to be a nurse 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for the rest of my life. That's all."

"Talk to her," Joe suggested. "This should be something the two of you decide together. Now listen, we're going to move you out of intensive care in a few hours and downstairs to the Cardiac unit. Do you have any questions for us, beyond what we've discussed?" When Taffy indicated he didn't, Joe gave him another smile and a nod. "All right then, get some rest. I'll see you later."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Callie!" JoAnne was so angry, she could spit. She stood in the living room, looking over the leather loveseat Roy had purchased just three months ago. They got new furniture so rarely, and she'd been so excited to have something that looked nice and was comfortable to boot. And now… a trail of stuffing had led her from the kitchen into the living room to discover that the sofa had three different holes, all of them created by the gnawing of sharp little puppy teeth. On the floor next to the sofa lay the chew toy she'd given Callie just that morning. Jo had hoped it would satisfy the dog's chewing needs. Thanks to Callie's teeth, she'd had to take DJ to buy a new pair of shoes last week, and just yesterday she'd found Megan's favorite sandals under the dining room table, beyond repair. But Callie's interest in the chew toy had lasted all of ten minutes. Then she was off pulling clothes out of the laundry pile and apparently, when that got boring, she'd decided to eat the couch. The animal was running Jo ragged!

"What am I going to do with you, Callie?" she moaned. She knew, of course — or at least, she hoped — that as the pup grew, her urge to chew on anything and everything would subside. But would they have any furniture left by the time they reached that point?

The puppy had trotted over in response to hearing her name and sat there, gazing lovingly up at JoAnne. Jo tried giving her a stern glare, but she was just too adorable to stay angry at. _Still… I have to find a way to teach her._

Just then the front door opened and Chris and Megan came running in. "Hi Mom!" they called as they ran upstairs to put their things away.

A moment later, Johnny and Nita came around the corner into the living room. They'd picked up the older kids from school. "Everything all right, Jo?" Johnny asked.

"I hold you entirely responsible, John Gage!" Jo said, and she shook a finger in his face. She couldn't stay mad at Callie, but she had to let it out on someone, and Johnny was the one who had brought them the pup. "Look at what this… this… monster you gave us has done to my new loveseat!"

Johnny bent down and scooped the pup into his good arm. She was growing fast, but was still just small enough he could manage her pretty easily. Callie barked and licked his face, then both Johnny and the pup looked at JoAnne, putting on their most contrite expressions. Johnny did a fair imitation of Callie's puppy-dog eyes. Callie whined, and Johnny echoed her exactly.

Nita swatted him on the shoulder. "Ahattak okpulo!" she scolded, but her dark eyes twinkled with fun.

"Bad husband?! Hey, I didn't chew the sofa!" Johnny retorted, suddenly indignant.

Jo tried her hardest not to laugh. She felt it building in her, starting in her tummy and making her shake and finally it burst out of her, and it felt good. She hadn't done enough of that lately, ever since Roy was injured. "All right, all right," she said when she'd gotten control again. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I'm just so frustrated. This pup is eating us out of house and home — literally!"

Chris came running downstairs, and Johnny handed him the dog. "Chris, why don't you take Callie outside to play for a bit. I'll see if there's anything I can do about the sofa."

"Sure, Uncle Johnny." Chris patted on the puppy and kissed her nose as he carried her to the back door and slid it open.

When Chris and the pint-sized culprit were outside, Johnny looked over the sofa. "Well now, I think we can get one of those leather repair kits and take care of this. If I leave now, I've got time to pick one up on the way to HQ. Won't make it good as new, but will at least close the holes so they aren't too noticeable and it isn't leaking stuffing." He straightened up. "And then, maybe I should take Callie up to the ranch and spend some time training her. I've done it before, several times. The only reason I didn't take it on yet is, I figured it would be good for Roy to do it when he comes home… help him bond with her and all. But he can take over when he's ready. They'll still bond just fine."

"Thank you, Johnny." Jo met his gaze with a rueful smile. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Aw, I don't really mind. You've got a lot on your plate… last thing you need is Callie causing trouble." He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug, then turned to Nita and pulled her close for a kiss. "I'd better get going. You ladies have a good evening together."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Later that evening, Kel stood outside Taffy's door for a long moment, gathering his thoughts before he knocked. Joe had spoken to him over lunch and, out of concern for Dixie, confided in him about the Welshman's plans. On the one hand, Kel figured he should be elated over the news. He could swoop in and provide comfort to Dixie and perhaps even reignite her love for him. But on the other hand, all he could think of was her tear-stained face when he'd found her in the lounge, her anguish at the thought of losing Taffy. No, his love for Dixie wouldn't let him be happy over this because he knew it would devastate her. He couldn't just stand aside and do nothing. "Mr. Matthews? Mind if I come in?"

"Of course not. Have a seat." Taffy waved him in and gestured to the chair.

As he proceeded into the room, Kel could see the uncertainty in Taffy's eyes and wondered how much he knew about Dixie's past relationships. "Joe persuaded Dixie to take a nap in the nurse's lounge before coming back up to see you. The ER is pretty quiet at the moment and she's exhausted. Anyway, I thought it would be a good chance for us to talk… not doctor to patient, but as two men who care deeply about Dixie McCall."

Taffy nodded. "I'm glad someone finally talked some sense into her." He tipped his head. "So… what's on your mind?"

Wasting no time, Kel moved directly to the heart of the matter. "I hear you're planning to break off your engagement and I'd like to know why."

Taffy's expression flashed between bleak and irritated for a moment. He sighed. "Of course Dr. Early discussed the situation with you. He did say you were his best friend. Well, if he told you my plans, then I'm sure he told you my reasons."

"Yes, Joe and I are best friends, and yes, he talked to me. But not because we're friends. You see, there's one thing in particular we're united on. We watch out for Dixie." Kel glanced down briefly and rubbed at his neck. "So… yes, he told me why as well, but I wanted to hear it first-hand."

Taffy rolled his eyes. "Straight from the horse's mouth, as they say, huh? Well, watching out for Dixie is exactly what I'm doing. I don't want her to end up nursemaid to an invalid, Dr. Brackett! It wouldn't be fair to her, and I refuse to do it!"

Kel leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He kept his voice low and steady, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable. "She loves you, Mr. Matthews. To be completely honest, I wish that weren't the case, but it is." He sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to keep his cool. Dixie would never forgive him if he pushed Taffy to the point of another heart attack. "You're going to break her heart if you leave."

Taffy stared at the doctor, his eyes dark with pain. "That's very likely true. And that is why I am counting on you to help her to pick up the pieces. You loved her a long time before I came along. Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't feel well. I need to rest."

Taffy's frank dismissal hit Kel like a ton of bricks. Maybe he should be thrilled with the idea of Taffy leaving, but instead he was furious. Hell, yes, he loved Dixie. But he didn't want to win her this way. He wasn't even sure he would win her — he was worried she would shut down completely. He couldn't quite keep his anger out of his tone. "All right, I'll go. You get your rest. If you're really leaving, it had better be soon. You're stable enough to be moved now. Let me know where you want to go and I'll make the arrangements. But I think you're making a big mistake and you'll regret it the rest of your life. I speak from experience here."

As Kel started to turn away, Taffy, his voice soft and sad, asked him a question. "Tell me something, and be completely honest. Put yourself in my shoes. If you were in this bed, at my age, with my prognosis, what exactly would you do? What would you want for Dixie then?"

Kel turned slowly to face Taffy again. "That's a hard question. Honestly, I can see your reasoning, but I don't really understand… Dixie wants to love you through this… she's willing to put all her heart into it. If you were already married, would you send her away? Or if she were the one lying in that bed and told you she was breaking it off, would you be willing to walk away?"

Taffy smiled slightly. "Ah, but that is not the case. Of course it would be different if we were already married, but we're not. And if she were in my place, I would not want to walk away, but if she wanted me to go, I would go. It would hurt, but I would go. I don't expect or ask that you understand that. Perhaps that is the difference between a young man and an old man."

"Perhaps. I just hope Dixie will understand better than I do. Good-bye, Mr. Matthews." With that, Kel turned to the door and strode into the hall.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy knew what he needed to do. If he didn't do it immediately, he would never have the courage to do it at all. He pulled a sheet of writing paper and a pen from the drawer in his bedside table and began to write:

 _My Dearest Dixie:_

 _I count myself the most fortunate of men_

 _For I have been loved_

 _by the most beautiful of women…_

 _You, my love. It breaks my heart_

 _That although my love for you_

 _has not and never will change_

 _Our circumstances most certainly have changed._

 _I cannot and will not see you chain yourself_

 _To the bedside of an invalid as I have now become._

 _You don't deserve that, and I won't have it._

 _I love you far too much to allow it…_

 _Kel Brackett and I talked._

 _He is a lovely man who truly loves you…_

 _And cares very much about what happens to you._

 _Please don't be bitter, love._

 _If you must hate me now, I understand._

 _But please, don't close yourself away._

 _You are far too beautiful a soul to be alone._

 _He loves you and needs you._

 _My dear, I am dying._

 _I cannot bear to have you die with me,_

 _Exhausted with the care for me._

 _If you truly love me, do this for me:_

 _Go… and be happy… be loved._

 _Taffy_

Broken-hearted and exhausted, he drifted off to sleep with the letter on the table in front of him.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

In the room next to Taffy's, Dixie was trying to catch her breath. She had been about to walk in and surprise her fiancé, but instead she had overheard him talking with Kel. She hadn't heard the entire conversation, but she had heard Kel tell him that if he was really leaving, he'd better go soon. Now she was seething. Furious. Taffy was planning to leave? How could he?! And Kel was encouraging him?! She waited a few minutes, then, hopeful that Kel had left, stepped back into the hallway just in time to see him turn the corner heading toward the stairs.

She stood in the hallway a moment, uncertain what she should do. Confront Taffy? Go in and pretend she hadn't heard anything? She caught in a breath and let it out slowly. Best to wait, she decided. Right now she was fuming and would have a hard time controlling her tongue. She didn't want to stress Taffy's fragile heart, but she couldn't just go in there pretending nothing had happened. And so she returned to the unused room and sat on the bed. She twisted her engagement ring around and around her finger as she tried desperately to gather her thoughts.

Once she felt she was ready to face Taffy without tears and without anger, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, then got to her feet and made her way back to his room. Her heart melted at the sight of him, sound asleep, looking so very frail. A sheet of paper lay on the table in front of him and Dixie couldn't help noticing her name at the top of it. He clearly intended it for her, so she felt only a small twinge of guilt when she picked it up and began to read.

His words wrapped around her like a gentle caress, and yet they also felt like a punch in the gut. Taffy dying? No, the doctors hadn't said that, at least not to her. They'd said it would be a long recovery, a difficult recovery. But dying? Had they told him something different when she wasn't with him? Had Kel… he wasn't trying to get Taffy to leave her, was he? She thought back on what she'd heard. Though she knew she lacked context, it was hard to dismiss his words… If you're really leaving, it had better be soon. Uncertain her legs would hold her up, she lowered herself into the chair and read the letter again. By the time she reached the end, she was sobbing.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy awoke with a start. He opened his eyes and looked over, startled to find Dixie there, not only crying but holding his letter. His heart broke all over again. He had meant for her to read that letter only after he had left Los Angeles, or at least, left Rampart. "Oh, my dearest!" His soft, anguished cry was barely more than a whisper.

"You're… dying?" Her question came out rough and hoarse. Tears pooled in her eyes, and Taffy was struck once more by the thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

His dark gaze steady, he patted the bed next to him, inviting her to sit near him. She slid from the chair to the edge of his bed, and he wrapped his fingers around her hand. He took a moment to gather his words before answering. "Yes, dearest. I am. Not immediately. Perhaps not even in the next few months or years. But I am dying, of that there is no doubt. I have an advanced case of black lung disease, along with the results of a severe myocardial infarction. As you can well imagine, my prognosis is somewhere south of poor. I will require nursing care pretty much constantly for the rest of my life. And I will not do that to you. I can't. Please, don't ask me to."

Dixie gently stroked the back of his hand. "I'm a good nurse, Taffy. We could be happy together." He could hear the longing in her voice, and he did his best to master his expression. He couldn't let her see how very tempting it was to say yes.

He closed his eyes for a long moment. Finally, he opened them. "I have no doubt of that… at least for a while. But Dixie, I grew up in the mines in Wales. I watched the women around me nurse their men through black lung. I saw what it does. I saw what it did to the women, how exhausted they became. You are not just a good nurse… you are the best I have ever seen. And you would put your whole heart into it. Into me. And it would destroy you. You must not ask me to do that. Please."

She sniffed and wiped away a tear. "Tell me the truth… did Kel put you up to this?"

Her question shocked Taffy to the core. "What? Why on earth would he do that?"

"I heard him… talking to you. Heard him say, if you're going, it should be soon. I… didn't hear anything after that."

Taffy's gaze narrowed and he allowed a hint of sternness into his normally gentle tone. "Dixie McCall, I meant every single word I wrote in that letter. Kelly Brackett is a fine man who loves you. He's just a wee bit slow on the uptake. His biggest concern is seeing that you don't get hurt. That was what he was most afraid I was going to do. And I believe he was warning me that if I was going to leave, I'd better go quickly and not come back, because he knew this would break your heart. He left here madder than hell at me, all because he cares about you."

She gave a brisk nod and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. But who will take care of you, Valentine? I… don't want you to be alone."

His tone once again soft, he grasped her hand. He never wanted to let it go. "Dear one, I promise you, I won't be alone. I made some phone calls after talking with Joe Early and Dr. Ferguson; Matthew has already contacted Andrew Carter. He apparently called Newkirk, who immediately headed for Paris to bring Phan here. I will be leaving the hospital in a few days and go to convalesce at LeBeau's estate a few hours from here. I have many good friends who will see I am well cared for."

Dixie nodded wordlessly. Then, taking care not to disturb the tubing of his IV, she lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around him. For several long minutes, she stayed there. Taffy didn't fight it. It felt good — right — to have her there and he knew he would spend the rest of his life yearning for her, for another moment like this.

Finally, she sat up. She slipped his ring from her finger and pressed it into his hand as she lowered her lips to his in a kiss. "Good bye, Taffy," she said softly. "I love you… always."

Before she got all the way out the door, Taffy said one last thing. "Please let him love you."

Dixie stopped at the sound of his voice but didn't turn around. He could only barely make out her soft answer. "I… don't know if I'm strong enough to risk that again." With that, she hurried from the room.

Taffy debated with himself, whether he should interfere any further. He finally decided he would not be able to live with himself if he didn't. He called for his nurse and asked to see Kelly Brackett immediately.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dr. Brackett wondered why Taffy would be calling for him so soon after asking him to leave. He informed Joe that he would return to the ER as soon as he could, then hurried up to the Cardiac Care Unit. "Mr. Matthews?" he said as he stepped through the open door. "Brenda sent word you wanted to see me."

Wordlessly, Taffy opened his fist and showed Kel Dixie's engagement ring.

"Ah… you talked to Dix, then." Kel had just met her coming out of the locker room with her purse, looking pale and exhausted. She'd brushed past him with only the briefest word of explanation. "She just told me she was going home sick."

"We talked, yes. I had planned on leaving her a letter. I fell asleep just after writing it, and she came back unexpectedly and found it."

Kel narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Wait a minute… you were just going to leave her a letter and disappear on her?"

"Look, she and I have talked. She has the letter. She understands now what my intentions were and why I was going to do what I did. The reason I asked you to come up here is that the last thing I asked her to do was to let you love her. She said she isn't sure she can take that risk again. I can't blame her for that. It's my fault. I know that. But she is far too fine a woman to be alone. So I am asking you to fight for her. Don't give up. Don't give in to what she thinks she wants. She needs you. She loved you long before she ever loved me. And she will love you again. Fight for her and do not give up. If you ever loved her… don't give up."

Kel sank into the chair. "I apologize for my temper," he said. "I promise you, Taffy. I won't give up. I love Dixie, and I'll make sure she knows it. And… you should know that what she's feeling now… it's not just because of you. Did she ever tell you about Adam?"

"No, who was he?"

"Her first love. She doesn't really talk about him. I don't think she even remembers telling me… one night when we were dating, I surprised her at her apartment because she had called in sick. I wanted to check on her, so I brought her some chicken noodle soup. Turns out I was the one who was surprised because I found her a bit, well… drunk. It's not something she does often, but it was the anniversary of Adam's death in Korea. She told me about finding him among the wounded at the MASH unit she was assigned to. She knew he wouldn't live. She's never spoken of him to me again, but every year she takes that day off and I bring her chicken noodle soup."

Taffy sighed. "I am terribly sorry. This whole thing must be doubly hard on her then. I wish this whole thing had… well, I am too selfish to say I wish I had never met her. She is a most remarkable woman, and I only wish things had worked out differently. But… Kelly, please… take care of her. I will miss her for the rest of my life."

Kel placed a hand on Taffy's shoulder. "You have my word, Taffy. Now get some rest. This stress isn't good for your heart."

Taffy smiled sadly. "Don't worry about me," he assured Kel, his accent suddenly thickening. "Me mum had a sayin'. ''Twill all come out in the wash, me boyo. 'Twill all come out in the wash.'" And he sank back against his pillows and shut his eyes.

Kel watched Taffy for a moment. "Dixie's not the only one who's remarkable," he murmured. "The two of you were good for each other, I have to admit." He smiled softly as he moved toward the door. "Rest well, Taffy," he tossed back over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He checked his watch as he moved into the hall. His shift was almost over. As soon as he was finished, he'd head over to the Jewish deli down the street and buy a batch of their chicken noodle soup. If Dixie wanted to be alone, he'd just leave it with her. And if she wanted company, well, he had all evening. First, things first, though; Denny was still waiting to hear from him about that job offer, and Kel needed to give him a call and turn it down. Even if Rampart could get along without him, Dixie needed him, and that was more than enough to keep him where he was.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

NOTES

*In early 19th century Britain, it was common for children as young as five to descend deep into the mines and spend long hours working. Many served as 'trappers,' meaning they would open and close a door that helped keep air flow going in the direction needed. Others were responsible for pulling the coal carts through tight spaces that pit ponies couldn't manage. In 1842, legislation was passed to make it illegal for women and for children under 10 to work underground, but apparently this law was easily evaded as there were very few inspectors and they had to give notice before visiting a mine.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Hello, dear readers! Thank you for your kind words and encouragement as I write this story! I am sorry I've taken a little longer than usual getting this chapter up. Last weekend, I had a chance to travel to Oklahoma for a fellow writer's book launch. If you have a chance and if I've whetted your appetite at all for the history of the Choctaw people, I highly recommend Sarah Elisabeth Sawyer's book,** _ **Anumpa Warrior.**_ **Anumpa is the Choctaw word for language, and Sawyer's excellent book is the first novel about the Choctaw Code Talkers of World War 1. Historically, more attention is given to the Navajo Code Talkers of World War 2, but the Choctaw were the first Native Americans to use their language as an unbreakable code to help win a war. October 26 - 27 was the 100th anniversary of that event, which helped to bring an end to World War 1 and paved the way for future code talkers, and I was honored to be a part of the book launch and to bring honor to these young men who fought as American patriots in spite of the fact that many were not even considered citizens.**

 **This chapter is somewhat shorter than my usual, but it's intense and anything else seemed a bit tacked on. The good news is, Chapter 20 is almost complete, because I moved several scenes into the next chapter. So stay tuned for another chapter in the next few days!**

 **As always, I thank my wonderful beta readers, Piscean6724 and katbybee, for all their input and encouragement. Special thanks are due to my son, who served as my consultant as I wrote these scenes! And now… without further ado, I give you Chapter 19!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike frowned as he turned the key in the ignition a third time. Nothing but a click. Hannah had been working just fine last night, but today the engine just wouldn't turn over. His mind ran over all the possible problems, but he knew he didn't have time to deal with it just now — he was already running late. He moved his gear to his pickup truck, climbed in, and soon was backing out of the driveway and on his way to meet Dave Barstow at ABC Preschool. Normally, Mike's part of the investigation would be done by now and finding the arsonist would be left up to the police, but Dave knew this case was personal for Mike and had gotten permission for him to tag along.

Today they were set to interview Mrs. Cassidy again. Hopefully, she would give them the information they needed to figure out where they might find Howard Evans. They'd followed every other lead and turned up nothing. Marita Jefferson had been located in Portland, but she didn't have any idea where to find her ex-boyfriend. He had been employed by a small hardware store in Norwalk, but his boss had fired him three months ago and hadn't seen him since. They'd visited the address on file with the DMV, but apparently he'd moved out a day after the fire and left no forwarding address.

When Mike reached the preschool and pulled into the parking lot, the detective was just climbing out of his vehicle. Mike parked next to him.

"Hannah leave you for another guy, Cap?" The police detective quirked his mouth up in a lopsided grin as he eyed Mike getting out of the pickup.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Real funny, Barstow."

Dave chuckled. "I have my moments. Well, come on… Mrs. Cassidy is waiting. And let me tell you, she was not pleased when I insisted on another interview."

As they crossed the parking lot toward the entrance, Mike noticed out of the corner of his eye a grungy little Toyota. One window was broken out, with a large trash bag taped in place of the glass, and the rear license plate was muddy and unreadable. He elbowed Dave and nodded toward the vehicle. "Take a look… seems out of place, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, sure does. Let's check it out." He changed his path slightly, heading toward the car instead of the building. After they had determined that no one was in the vehicle, Dave crouched down to get a closer look at the license plate. But before he could brush the mud away, a shrill alarm sounded from inside the building.

"Fire alarm! Call it in, Dave!" While the detective ran back toward his car, Mike whipped around to see a fellow in a Raiders jacket jumping through a broken window and running into the parking lot. "That's our guy!" Stoker shouted. The suspect stopped, hesitated briefly, and then ran the other way, pitching something through the air toward Dave. A flash of sunlight reflected on glass, and suddenly it dawned on Mike exactly what he was seeing — a Molotov cocktail! "Dave! Watch out!" The bottle fell short, shattering as it landed in the bed of Mike's truck. With a whoosh, the truck ignited. Thankfully, Dave had managed to get away in time and appeared to be unharmed.

Mike's instincts screamed at him to run after Evans and take him down, but his sense of duty overpowered those instincts. There could be people inside the school and they were in danger. The fire alarm was still shrieking and he could see smoke billowing from the window. He left the detective to deal with Evans and hurried toward the building.

Covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, he went in through the window. The smoke was already thick. He didn't think he saw anyone in the classroom, but he could sure hear a ruckus not far away — sounded like crying and pounding. Across the room was a door, and from the looks of it, it was barricaded. He would bet anything Evans herded everyone in there before setting the fire. He couldn't get to the door, though, because the flames blocked his way. He glanced upward at the sprinklers that had been installed in the ceiling — none of them had activated, and he figured Evans must have disabled them somehow. The fire itself wasn't huge yet, but it was big enough, and from the smell of accelerant it would be getting bigger fast.

Wishing with all his heart that he had Big Red and his crew there right now, he peered through the smoky air for a source of water. He hoped to hear the sirens announcing an engine's arrival any minute now, but there was no time to wait. By the wall, close to the flames, stood a large fish tank. Mike cast about for something solid, settling on a child-sized chair. He lobbed it across the room at the fish tank, breaking the glass and spilling its contents to extinguish the fire. "Sorry, little guys," he murmured to the flopping fish as he stepped across the sodden mass to reach the door.

Pulling away the furniture that had been used as a barricade, he yanked it open. "Fire Department!" he announced as he walked into the small washroom. Five children huddled together near the far wall, crying. Sue and several of the teachers were there as well. The ladies had been tied together with their hands behind their backs. The kids all held wet paper towels over their mouths and noses. Mike figured the teachers had told them to do that to protect them from the smoke. He pulled out his pocket knife and cut the women free. "Is anyone hurt?"

"We're all right," Sue answered. Mike was impressed by her steady voice. He had to admit, she sure had guts. Actually, all of the teachers were doing a great job keeping calm and comforting the children.

Mike hoisted two kids in his arms and directed the teachers to get the others. "Follow me. We're going out through the window." At the sight of the broken fish tank, the little girls Mike was carrying both burst into fresh tears, and one hid her face against his shoulder. Mike hugged them close. "It's OK," he murmured. "Everything's going to be OK. C'mon, we've gotta get out of here."

Just as they reached the window, a loud explosion set the kids off shrieking again. _So much for my truck,_ Mike thought. _Fire must have reached the gas tank._ He steeled himself against showing any emotional reaction, instead turning to Sue. "Is anyone else in the building?"

Her eyes got big and Mike was pretty sure they weren't just tearing from the smoke. "Just Mrs. Cassidy. She was in the lobby… I… I think she's —" She glanced at the children. "I mean… she tried to stop Howard, but he had a knife and a gun. He… he..." She swallowed hard, and Mike could see she was struggling to keep her composure.

 _Knife and gun and a Molotov cocktail… damn, but that guy's a walking arsenal! I wonder what else he's got on him._ But all Mike said aloud was, "I have to go back for her." He set the girls down and helped Sue through the window, then passed the kids through to her one by one. Finally he helped the rest of the teachers out. He surveyed the area around the building and could see that the playground looked clear. He could hear sirens headed their way. "Ladies, take the kids away from the building to the playground. Do not go up to the parking lot until you're told it's safe." The ladies acknowledged his instructions with nods and then hurried away with their small charges, and Mike turned to the interior door and made his way toward the lobby.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

While they waited for Nick to fetch Roy for therapy, Johnny busied himself flipping through the channels on Roy's television set. He'd just settled on a soap opera he liked to make fun of when the Channel 5 news logo flashed on the screen, then faded to live footage showing several fire trucks and police cars. Something — Johnny figured it was a vehicle — was ablaze in the middle of the lot and firefighters were busy dousing the flames. Paramedics were gathered around a victim who lay stretched out on the ground. The deep voice of anchor Hal Fishman intoned, "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. You are watching live footage filmed from our eye in the sky over Southeast Torrance. Frank, tell us what we're seeing."

"Hal, this is ABC Preschool, where police are reportedly searching for the Sunny Estates arson suspect. They have established a perimeter bounded by —"

"Hey, Roy!" Johnny called to his friend, who had his nose stuck in a book. "Get a load of this. It's about the arsonist." He turned up the volume and turned his attention back to the set. Roy set down his book and, using his foot and his good hand, he managed to maneuver his wheelchair so he was facing the screen.

"Folks, we recommend that you avoid this area if at all possible," the reporter continued. "We don't have full details at this time, but the suspect allegedly took several people, including children, inside the school hostage and set a fire in a classroom. He then broke out a window and attempted to flee, but was seen by a firefighter and a police detective who were on site. The suspect hurled an incendiary device into the back of a pickup truck, resulting in an explosion which destroyed several other cars in the lot as well." The image zoomed in on the charred shell of a burned-out vehicle. The flames had been thoroughly doused. "The few teachers and children who were inside the building are safe, but there is at least one injured victim inside, and it looks like we've got an injured man outside, as well. Hal, according to my sources, this is a police detective who was injured as he attempted to subdue the suspect. Both Adams Elementary, right next door, and Wood Elementary are currently on lockdown. Parents are asked to stay away for the time being. You will not be allowed to drive into the neighborhood."

The scene of the parking lot faded to solid blue and a photograph of Roy in his turnouts and captain's helmet came up. "To provide some background," Fishman explained, "the Sunny Estates arsonist struck just over a month ago, killing five and seriously injuring L.A. County Fire Captain Roy DeSoto, pictured, who heroically saved the lives of three young children before he was trapped in a building collapse. Now let's return to our eye in the sky. Frank? Can you tell us more?"

The photo faded and the live footage resumed. Johnny and Roy both leaned forward and listened to the continuing report. "Hal, we now have a ground crew on the scene and Sandra Bailey is with LA County Fire Chief Ken Johnson. Let's hear what he has to say."

The feed from the helicopter faded out, replaced by a scene of a tall, slender woman holding a microphone. She stood next to Chief Johnson, one hand to her ear as if she were waiting for word to go ahead.

Finally she nodded and then began. "Chief Johnson, I understand that two members of your arson investigation team were on site this morning. Was their presence in relation to the Sunny Estates fire?" She thrust the microphone in the chief's face.

"Well, obviously." Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but he can't tell her that," Roy responded.

Indeed, Chief Johnson demurred. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bailey. I cannot comment on an active investigation."

"Can you confirm that the suspect is Howard Evans of Long Beach?"

Johnson looked mildly perturbed as he repeated, "Once again, I cannot comment on an active investigation."

Johnny's brow furrowed. "Howard Evans, huh? Has Mike mentioned that name to you?"

"Nope. Hasn't said a word to me about the investigation, other than that he was part of it, and I haven't asked."

Bailey must have realized the chief was not about to break, because she did not pursue her questions about the investigation any further. "Can you tell us who the firefighter was who got the children and their teachers to safety?"

"That I can answer, yes. Fire Captain Michael Stoker rescued the victims and put out the fire before the engine ever arrived."

"That's our boy," Johnny said proudly. He glanced at his friend, curious about what he was feeling. Roy didn't seem agitated, but his emotions had to be running high.

"Roy? Johnny?" Nick stuck his head in the door. Apparently, they'd missed his knock. "You'll never believe why I'm late today."

"Oh… hi, Nick," Roy said, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. "Let me guess… explosion and roadblocks?"

"How'd you…" The therapist's incredulous response faded to a brief silence as he stepped in and focused on the television. "Ah… it's on the news."

"Yeah, sure is. Um… could we put off PT today?"

"I guess so." Nick moved in closer to watch the broadcast. "Wow… no wonder I had to go the long way round China to get here. I wonder who dunnit."

"The arsonist," Johnny kicked in. "The same idiot who set the fire that put Roy in here. This time he tried burning down a preschool. Our friend Mike Stoker is there."

Nick let out a low whistle. "Wow," he repeated. "Yeah, PT can wait. I can take the Dawson kid first and come see if you're ready later." He clapped Roy on the back and then slipped out the door.

The TV image shifted to Hal Fishman once again. "If you are just joining us, here's a brief recap of events." As he continued, Johnny sat on Roy's bed. "Well, Roy… ya ready to testify when they catch 'im?"

"Heh… may not have to."

"What do you mean? There'll be a trial and everything… they'll definitely call you to testify. Even if you can't remember, the jury needs —"

Roy gave a wry chuckle. "If Mike gets ahold of him first, I don't think there'll be anything left to try. C'mon… let's keep watchin'"

"We now take you back to Sandra Bailey, on the ground at ABC Preschool in Southeast Torrance, where I understand the situation is escalating," Fishman said. "Sandra, tell us what's happening."

The scene faded in on the reporter, now standing behind a line of police officers. "Hal, the suspect was flushed out of hiding, but is now holding officers at bay with a hand grenade. He has pulled the pin but is holding the safety in place. He has threatened to throw the grenade if anyone attempts to approach him. As a precautionary measure, police are beginning an evacuation of everything within a 165 foot radius, and —"

"That includes you and your crew, ma'am." A police chief approached Sandra Bailey. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do your reporting from a distance. It isn't safe here."

"Chief… could you please…" Sandra's protests fell on deaf ears and the picture went black.

An instant later, Hal Fishman's form filled the screen again. "I'm sorry, viewers. For their safety, our ground crew has had to move away from the scene. The lethal damage radius of a hand grenade is about 15 feet, but serious damage can reach to a radius of about 50 feet. Of course, you have to factor in the potential throw radius. Dangerous fragments can travel as far as 750 feet from the blast zone, so this threat is nothing to kid around with. We've got a map of the affected area coming up now. If you are in the area shaded red, you should get out now. Viewers in the blue-shaded area should shelter in place and stay away from windows." The map remained on screen for several seconds and then disappeared as the aerial image faded in again. "And now we take you back to Frank Madison, our eye in the sky. Frank? What do you have for us?"

"Oh man, Hal. As if things weren't interesting enough already… well… take a look. This fireman just came out of the preschool with the paramedics, who were bringing their victim to a waiting ambulance, and… well… let's just watch how things unfold." Johnny bounced to his feet and started pacing as he watched, and Roy leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on the set, because the camera now followed Mike Stoker. He moved stealthily, approaching the suspect, who stood across from the police in a pitcher's stance, from behind. Mike must have been keeping really quiet because the guy didn't seem to notice him at all.

Johnny gawked at the screen. "What are you doin', Mike?! Don't be an idiot! Why aren't they stopping him?!"

"Too big a risk," Roy answered. "If they move toward Mike or draw attention to him, this guy's liable to lob that thing. But if Mike can get close enough, there's a chance he can clamp his hand on the suspect's and keep him from releasing the safety and then police can move in."

"A chance?" Johnny grunted. "More likely he's gonna get himself killed." He fell silent and the two friends watched intently as Mike drew closer and closer to the arsonist. All they could hear from the television was the sound of the chopper as it hovered over the preschool. Johnny wondered vaguely if Hal Fishman and Frank Madison were on the edge of their seats like Roy was.

As Mike drew closer to the arsonist, Johnny caught in his breath and held it, exhaling only when his friend had successfully clamped both his hands over the suspect's from behind. They got a brief view of the arsonist struggling to get away before the picture went back to Hal Fishman in the studio.

Johnny roared in disgust. "What's that about?! They're just cutting it off there?!"

"Calm down, Junior." Roy waved Johnny over to the chair. "Could be technical problems, or maybe they had to cut out — a little too intense for a general audience, whether police take the guy down or he manages to blow the place up."

"I suppose." Johnny folded his lanky form into the chair and gave his attention back to the news anchor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry, but we have lost our video feed. We are going to cut to a commercial while we deal with our technical difficulties and will return momentarily with a full update."

Johnny was up and pacing again, muttering under his breath, while Roy just sat staring out the window as they waited to learn the rest of the story.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike could hardly breathe. Howard Evans was trying desperately to pull his hand free. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have any skill in martial arts, or Mike would have been in big trouble. Instead of effectively fighting the fireman off, Evans just worked with his free hand to pry Mike's fingers up, but Mike was stronger and kept a good hold on him.

"Let me go!" Evans growled.

Mike just snarled and tightened his grip even more. "No way."

At that, Evans cussed up a storm, calling Mike every name in the book as he attempted to wrest himself free. Before the idiot could remember he had a gun, Mike planted a foot against the back of his knee and pushed hard, forcing him to the ground and pinning him there. "Come on, you guys! A little help would be nice!" he shouted at the police, who were standing by, watching, their guns trained though they couldn't risk a shot.

Vince was the first one over, with Eddie Ramer only a couple of paces behind him. The two men got control of Evans so Mike could slip the grenade from his hand and carefully replace the pin. "Good job, Stoker," Vince said. "But you had us all plenty worried for a moment."

"You're not the only ones," Mike observed weakly. As the adrenaline drained out of him, his legs began to tremble and he went into a cold sweat. Suddenly he became conscious of a burning pain in his right arm. He looked down, surprised to see that his sleeve was torn and blood-soaked. _Must've cut it goin' in the window._ He hadn't even noticed. He took a step forward, watching Vince and Eddie as they tried to get Evans' hands where they could cuff him.

Things happened fast after that. Mike's vision got fuzzy and he blinked a couple times to clear it. The second time, as he opened his eyes, he saw a flash of silver and realized Evans had managed to get to his knife. Vince cried out a warning and about the same time Eddie fired off a shot. Mike wasn't sure what happened after that because suddenly he was waking up on the ground with paramedic Al Borgmann looking down at him and taking his vitals. "Headed for Rampart?" he murmured.

"Yeah, you are." The burly blonde flashed him a jaunty grin. "They'll probably throw you back pretty fast, though… some IV fluids and about twenty stitches and you should be good as new."

Above them, a helicopter hovered. Mike could make out the Channel 5 logo on its side. "Why don't you wave to your fans?" Borgmann quipped. "They filmed every second of your daring maneuver. I bet all of Los Angeles is talking about you now."

"Just what I need." Mike rolled his eyes, then closed them as Borgmann started the IV. He wondered whether Evans was alive or dead, but he didn't have the energy to ask. He was awfully tired, and a little sleep sounded pretty good just about now.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"All right, folks," Hal Fishman said. "We've got our problem fixed and will now return to the live feed. Frank, what are you seeing from up there?"

Johnny and Roy both snapped their eyes back to the screen. Roy's eyes roved the image, looking for Stoker. Finally he found him — Mike lay on the ground covered by a yellow emergency blanket while Al Borgmann of 6's worked on him. Borgmann's partner, Jay McGuire, bent over the suspect.

"Hal, the fireman — who we've now learned is Captain Mike Stoker of the LA County Fire Department — managed to subdue the suspect, allowing police to approach safely. The grenade has been neutralized and the bomb squad has already taken it away. From this distance, it's hard to tell exactly what happened, but both Captain Stoker and the suspect appear to be injured."

Johnny thumped the television as if it would speed things along. "C'mon, Mike… give us some sign you're all right."

Roy wished they could get a closer view, but now Frank Madison was signing off and Hal Fishman was talking about the five o'clock news and then telling viewers that they were "now returning to the regularly scheduled broadcast, already in progress."

Johnny switched off the TV and sat silently for a moment. Finally he shook his head and said, "Looks like you might have company tonight, Roy. Think they'll let Stoker bunk in with you?"

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Today in the US, we celebrate Veteran's Day, which coincides with Remembrance Day or Armistice Day. The fact that this year is the hundredth anniversary of the Armistice, signed in France, that ended World War 1 makes it worthy of special note. And so, in honor of those who have served in the cause of freedom, and remembering in particular the end of WW1, I am posting this chapter on 11 November at 11:00 a.m. Paris time.**

 **Thank you, my readers, for your reviews and messages. After a couple of shorter chapters, I've got a nice long one for you this time! Marbo, I think I've answered a lot of your questions in this chapter! I hope the answers satisfy. I briefly thought of ending the story here even though we haven't gotten to the final scene that was actually the first one I wrote when this story first began, but there are still several loose ends to tie up and Johnny hasn't even started therapy and this chapter is already quite long enough, so I will definitely write at least a few more. You can expect me to pick up the pace a bit as I move forward. Then again, it all depends on what the characters have to say to me as I continue telling their story!**

 **Thank you, Piscean6724, for consulting with me on matters of therapy — your suggestions greatly enriched the chapter! Katbybee, your input has been incredibly valuable as well — I love bouncing ideas off you because you always help me go deeper and really get to the heart of the story! Ladies, you two are the most awesome betas ever.**

 **Please be aware that this chapter may be tough reading, especially for those who have had the experience of losing a child. When I started writing, I did not expect to tell Mike's backstory, but when the time came it just flowed naturally. I have made one change to a previous chapter that I should mention here — in chapter 14, I wrote that Mike and Beth have been married just under 20 years, but I realized that timeline does not work for the backstory as I had planned it. So I have changed it to "just over 20 years." I imagine them marrying sometime in the spring of 1962.**

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Between the stand-off at the preschool and an early morning brawl at Carson High School, along with the usual traffic through Rampart Emergency, Kel Brackett had been kept hopping all morning. While intern Chuck Peterson stitched up the preschool director's stab wounds, which thankfully had not damaged any vital organs, and Mike Morton dealt with a through-and-through gunshot wound to Detective Barstow's left shoulder, Kel and Joe had checked over the preschoolers and their teachers. They had all suffered minor smoke inhalation and were being kept overnight for observation as a precaution, but Kel was certain they would be just fine.

For the most part, the brawlers had just needed stitches, though a couple of them had broken ribs and one had been more critically injured. He was upstairs in surgery now, for repairs to a lacerated liver.

In between patients, he'd had to deal with the press. While most of the reporters had remained on the scene at the preschool, a few had dribbled in with the first set of victims. Kel had kept them away from the kids but allowed them a brief meeting in a conference room with those teachers who were willing, hopeful he could get rid of them quicker with a little cooperation. When Mike Stoker arrived, though, the press flooded in with him, flashbulbs popping as they called out questions.

Mike didn't look good. He wasn't badly injured, but he was pale and shaky, and Kel could tell all the attention was only making him miserable. Anyone who knew Michael Stoker knew he was an intensely private man. He certainly would not want to talk about himself in front of television cameras. Kel determined then and there to keep him overnight whether he needed it or not, just to give him some privacy and distance from the media vultures. He wouldn't be able to avoid them forever, but at least he could have a little time to recover from the stress of the morning before he had to face them.

"Exam Four," Kel told Borgmann, keeping his voice low so only the paramedic could hear him. "Don't let any of these guys in with him. I'll be right there." Beckoning for a couple of Security officers to back him up, Kel strode up to the pushiest of the reporters and put a hand over his camera lens. "You need to leave right now. All of you. Captain Stoker will answer your questions when he is ready and that won't be until I clear him. So go. And I already know you're going to set up shop outside. Stay clear of the ambulance bay or I'll have the police move you out."

"You heard the man. Outside, now." The Security officers herded the protesting reporters through the doors and away from the building. With a satisfied nod, Kel made his way to the patient in Exam Four.

Mike already looked a lot better. According to Borgmann, he had collapsed at the scene, but after receiving IV fluids, he'd perked up considerably on the ambulance ride to Rampart. After cleaning and stitching the long gash on the fireman's arm, Kel ordered the appropriate tests for smoke inhalation and informed him that he would be spending the night as a guest of Rampart.

"I feel fine, Doc!"

Kel was unfazed by Stoker's quick objection. "I'm sure you do. Most likely you are. And I don't have to tell you, the effects of smoke inhalation can be delayed and they can be deadly. You were in that room without any SCBA —"

"For less than ten minutes."

Brackett cleared his throat and continued, undeterred by the interruption. "...without any SCBA, and I intend to take the appropriate precautions to make absolutely certain you suffered no ill effects. Listen, Mike. Your chest x-ray looks clear and your blood gasses are normal, but you have some soot in your nose and throat and some minor swelling of your nasal passages. I'd rather err on the side of caution and keep you here tonight."

"But Doc —"

Kel crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his recalcitrant patient with a steely-eyed glare. "Look at it this way, Captain. What would you tell one of your men in this situation, if he argued with me? And consider this… if I release you now, thre's a whole flock of vultures out there, just waiting to descend on you. If you stay, I can keep them away from you."

He could practically see the fight drain out of Stoker. "Fine, Doc. I'll stay."

"Good." Kel uncrossed his arms and squeezed Mike's shoulder. "I've already asked Carol to make up the other bed in Roy's room for you." He winked. "Seems he got wind you might be headed this way and put in a request for a roommate."

Mike nodded. "That's fine. Hey Doc…"

"Yes?"

"The arsonist… what happened to him?"

Kel inhaled sharply. "He's in surgery now with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Could go either way at this point."

Mike nodded, tight-lipped, but did not respond. Kel wondered what he was thinking, but he refrained from asking. Captain Stoker had a reputation for reticence, and Kel had learned over the years that he preferred to think things over before he spoke. He liked to make every word count. Kel wouldn't rush him now.

He called for an orderly with a wheelchair to take Mike up to Roy's room, then made a beeline for his office. Things had quieted down now and he could take a few minutes just to breathe and to think about the last few days.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike felt ridiculous, getting pushed around in a wheelchair when he had two perfectly good legs to get around on, but who was he to argue hospital policy? He settled back and let the orderly take command. He was still tired, after all. Now that they were on their way upstairs, he had second thoughts about agreeing to room with Roy tonight. He didn't really want to talk about what had happened, and Roy would be chomping at the bit for information. And if Johnny was there? Oh man… Roy might take the hint and leave him alone after a bit, but Johnny would be brimming with questions and wouldn't rest until he got answers. Johnny could be worse than a whole passel of reporters.

And so it was with a sense of relief that he found the room empty except for Nurse Carol, who was just finishing up. She said Roy had gone to PT about five minutes ago and wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. "Do you need anything, Captain Stoker?" she asked once he was lying down in the bed. While waiting for his answer, she filled a pitcher with water and left it on the bedside table along with a cup.

"The water's plenty, thanks. I'm kind of tired — think I'll take a nap." He really was exhausted. He knew he should call Beth and let her know where he was and that he was OK, but at the moment he felt totally drained. Just a short nap… then he'd call. He adjusted his bed to a comfortable angle, and within a matter of seconds, he was sound asleep.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel settled into the chair behind his desk as he ruminated over the last few days. He was pretty sure his friendship with Dixie was back on solid ground, but he intended to take things slowly. Oh, he loved her — that much was certain. He wasn't going to take her for granted any more or let his own arrogance get in the way of treating her right. Dixie needed to know that he would be there no matter what she decided, and she needed to know that he would wait as long as it took for her to be ready. But he also wasn't going to rush into anything. He sure as hell didn't want to be the guy she settled for on the rebound. No, if there was going to be anything between them, she had to want it as much as he did. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, there would never be any woman for him other than Dixie McCall.

The night Taffy had broken things off, Kel had brought her the chicken noodle soup and she'd opened her door and invited him in. They'd talked for a little bit while she ate, but she hadn't wanted to talk about Taffy. Kel could respect that. He figured she needed time. At least she hadn't kicked him out. He told her about his trip to Georgetown and the job offer he'd turned down.

"You wouldn't really have gone, Kel, would you?" she'd asked, looking up at him with that intent gaze he thought he could almost fall into and get lost in. "I mean… if I had —" Her voice faded to silence, and those eyes filled with such hurt it broke Kel's heart. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but taking it slow meant keeping his distance.

He shrugged. "I don't know, Dix. I'm not sure I could ever be happy anywhere else. But dammit, Dixie… staying would have been hard too."

He'd left a few minutes later after Dixie said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. He had wanted to ask her why she hadn't fought Taffy the way she'd fought him tooth and nail about so many things. If anyone could have convinced the stubborn Welshman to stay, it had to be Dixie. But apparently, she hadn't really tried. She'd given him his ring back and walked away. Someday, Kel would ask, but for now, he needed to give her some space. Eventually, hopefully, she would be ready to tell him.

Taffy had left last night, traveling by ambulance to the California estate belonging to a wealthy French friend. Apparently, the friend had even hired a medical staff to tend Taffy's needs throughout his recuperation. Kel had seen the name of the doctor on the paperwork and was impressed — he had no doubt that Taffy Matthews would have the best of care.

He'd taken a moment to go up to Taffy's room before the orderlies could bundle him onto the gurney and move him down to the ambulance bay. Roy was there with JoAnne, saying his farewells. Kel waited a moment for them to finish and leave, then stepped to Taffy's bedside and sat down. For a long moment, the awkward silence was deafening. Kel wasn't sure what to say. _I wish you the best_ seemed a bit hollow, considering the man's diagnosis meant his condition would gradually deteriorate over time. Under different circumstances, Kel thought he would have been pleased to consider Taffy Matthews a friend, but he wasn't sure Taffy would agree.

When he finally spoke, it was just a simple "I'm sorry" that slipped off his tongue. He meant it, too — he was sorry… sorry that Taffy was sick, sorry for his own idiotic resentment, sorry for the angry words that he'd loosed on the Welshman earlier in the week, sorry about the devastation Taffy had to be feeling. Kel wasn't a particularly religious man. He hadn't had a serious talk with God since he was a kid. But as a doctor, he knew that sometimes you just did the best you could and left the rest in God's hands. "I… uh… I've never been much of a praying man, Taffy, but I want you to know I'll be praying for you." He snorted softly. "If God will even listen to a stubborn, arrogant, know-it-all doctor like me, that is."

"Oh, He'll be glad to hear from you, Doctor," Taffy assured him with a rueful chuckle. "Who do you think made you so stubborn? It's a weakness, yes, but it's also a strength, an important part of what makes you such a good doctor. We all have weaknesses. He loves us anyway. So talk to Him… and not just about me or Dixie. And remember that I'll be praying for you too. It's what I do for all my boys. Goodbye, Kel. I'll keep in touch. I wish you well."

It took a moment for Taffy's words to sink in. Kel only vaguely noticed as a knock sounded at the door, and then the orderlies came in with the gurney to transfer their patient to the waiting ambulance. _One of his boys? How'd I get to join that club?_ He wasn't sure how to respond, but the thought aroused in him a strange mixture of humility and pride. Whatever brought him there, it was certainly a good club to belong to. "Goodbye, Taffy," he said quietly as the orderlies wheeled the Welshman out of the room. Kel wasn't sure he would ever see the man again, but he had a notion he would be feeling the effects of Taffy Matthew's prayers for the rest of his life.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

JoAnne sighed. DJ had come home from school in a foul mood, and she wished the older kids were there to help her occupy him. On the one hand, she really couldn't blame him. He missed his daddy and wanted the whole DeSoto family together under one roof again. She felt the same way, and if she could have gotten away with it, she might have thrown a tantrum too. On the other hand, she was a grown up. She didn't get to have tantrums and she did have work she needed to get done. And right now, all that had to be set aside for her to calm a distraught seven year old. If Winnie Canfield hadn't had the flu, she might have been able to distract him by sending him next door, but that wasn't an option today.

"I want to play with Daddy!" DJ demanded and he stomped his foot hard on the linoleum kitchen floor.

Jo drew in a deep breath and willed herself to use her calm but authoritative voice. "I'm sorry, honey. I can't take you to the hospital just now. Aunt Eileen and your cousins are coming to visit tomorrow and the house is a mess. How about you help me load the dishwasher?" Usually, DJ loved to help with the dishes.

"No! I need Daddy! He should live here, not at the hopsital!" He stomped his foot again and his voice rose in both pitch and volume. Jo's head was already aching, and DJ's whine seemed to pierce through her skull like an arrow.

Her youngest son rarely behaved this way. He was generally a good-natured little boy, overflowing with hugs and kisses. Oh, sometimes he got frustrated and acted out in stressful situations, like any other child. Over the years, Roy and Jo and DJ's teachers had learned to deal with such moments and get him through them. But every once in a while, nothing seemed to help, and the more upset he got, the harder it was for him to articulate why.

Probably she shouldn't give in. Realistically, she didn't have time, and if she let him have his way it would be that much harder to shut down the next tantrum. But the sight of her little boy just now — his cheeks red and wet with tears, his hands clenched into tight little fists — cut to her heart. Finally she knelt down and gathered him into her arms for a quick hug. "Go use the potty and then get your shoes on. Let's go see Daddy."

His usual sunny disposition didn't return immediately, but at least the storm was reduced to a drizzle. He nodded, then scurried away. Meanwhile, Jo took a moment to go through his backpack, searching for a clue to what had set off the waterworks. Crumpled at the bottom of the pack she found a flyer from school for the upcoming Father-Son Fun Night, an annual fall tradition. Last year, DJ and Roy had attended together and had even come home with a trophy for winning a relay race. DJ had talked about nothing else for weeks afterward. No wonder he was upset. They didn't know yet when Roy would come home, but he certainly wouldn't be ready for an event like this by mid-November. She sighed. There was no easy solution. Johnny would offer to take him, of course, but when DJ wanted his daddy, only his daddy would do.

"Ready, Mama!"

Jo dropped the flyer on the kitchen counter and turned toward her son. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but he had washed his face and his shoes were on the right feet, even if they weren't tied. She knelt down to hug him, then tied his laces. "I love you, DJ. And Daddy _is_ going to come home. We just have to be patient for the doctors to say he's ready."

"Bein' patient is hard, Mama!"

"I know, honey, I know. It's hard for me too. But I have an idea for something that might help. Want to hear it?" She wiped away a fat tear that had escaped to trickle down his cheek.

He drew in a shuddering breath, then nodded. "OK."

"Well, when Daddy does come home, we should celebrate, don't you think?"

"You mean like a party?" Brow wrinkling, he tilted his head and regarded her intently.

"Yes, a party. Will you help me plan it? And don't tell Daddy… it should be a surprise."

"Can we have chocklit cake and abloons?" His eyes got really big and Jo was pleased to see a hint of their usual sparkle return.

"That's your daddy's favorite," she said, and she kissed his nose, "so we'd better have some! And balloons too, definitely."

DJ wrapped his arms around her neck. "OK."

"Good." She gave him a squeeze, then let go and stood up. "Now, is Taco going with us?"

"I almost forgot!" He whirled around and ran back up the stairs to get his favorite teddy bear, then hurried back, his friend carefully tucked under his arm. "Let's go, Mama!"

Fifteen minutes later, they walked in the door at Rampart. DJ ran ahead to the elevator and pushed the "up" button. When the door slid open for them to step inside, he pointed to the number buttons. "Daddy's on 2, right Mama?"

"That's right." Jo was glad no one else was on the elevator with them, because she could let DJ have fun pushing the buttons without anyone getting impatient with the time he took. His little hand went back and forth between the two and the five and he stuck out his lower lip as he considered them. Finally, he pushed the correct button and the elevator started up. "Good job, Little Bear!" DJ looked up at her and beamed.

Jo was surprised when she stepped into Roy's room and found Mike Stoker sound asleep in the second bed in the room, a hospital band around his wrist. Roy smiled at them from his wheelchair and held a finger to his lips. "Shhh… Mike had a rough morning."

"Daddy!" DJ climbed up into Roy's lap and snuggled close. "I don't want you to live at the hopsital anymore! You gotta come home!"

Roy sighed. They'd had this conversation before, several times. He glanced over at Mike, grateful that DJ's plea hadn't wakened him. "I promise I'm coming home as soon as Doctor Brackett says it's time, Buddy. For now, maybe we could go downstairs to the playground?"

"Playground? That sounds like fun to me! Can we come too?" Johnny and Nita stepped into the room just then, and Johnny gave Jo a quick hug. "Hi, Nitoshi! Hi, Jo! Did you see the news this morning?"

Jo shook her head. "I was cleaning house. It's a mess and Eileen is coming to visit tomorrow. I've still got a lot to do, but DJ really needed to see his daddy."

"Let me help you, Jo," Nita said. "Otherwise I'll just be sitting around HQ tonight until Johnny is done working."

Jo responded with a vehement shake of her head. "Oh no… you don't need to do that. You've already done so much."

"Jo…" Nita took her hand and squeezed it. "I want to help. I will enjoy it. And you have done much for me, as well. That's what friends do."

Finally relenting, Jo pulled Nita into a quick hug. "Thank you so much."

Johnny reached over to rub DJ's head. "Why don't you let me help too? Leave DJ here and I'll bring him back to the house on my way to work in a couple of hours."

"Oh, Johnny, thank you!" Jo gave him a hug too, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Now, what's this news I missed? And does it have something to do with why Mike Stoker is asleep in that bed?"

"Walk us down to the playground before you go and we'll tell you everything," Roy said.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Daddy! Come play with me!" DJ grabbed Roy's hands and pulled as hard as he could.

Roy felt his heart twist. "I want to, buddy, but I can't."

DJ pouted and his shoulders slumped. "You said that last time too."

Johnny clapped Roy on the back. "Why not? I can get your chair over there, and then you can transfer to the bottom step of the playset. At least sitting there is better 'n sitting here." He was already pulling off his sling. Roy figured he probably only wore the thing when he was here, to keep out of trouble with Brackett and Dixie and Early.

"Brackett'll kill me," Roy said as he eyed the playset. He had to admit the idea appealed to him. He hated having to tell DJ no when all his boy wanted was to play with his daddy. "Well, what are you waitin' for, Junior? Let's do it."

DJ's eyes got big and he clapped his hands. "Let's do it, Unca Junior!" He ran ahead of the two men to the playset and had gone down the slide a couple of times by the time Johnny got Roy settled on the step. Roy wrapped his good arm around one of the supports to help him keep his balance.

Before his injury, Roy would often take DJ to the park and go up on the playset with him. When other kids wouldn't play with the little boy because he was different, he always had his daddy for his playmate and protector and best friend all rolled up in one. Roy hated being unable to fulfill that role.

DJ seemed content just to have his daddy sit at the bottom of the playset instead of climb around with him the way they usually did. Once he felt more confident with his balance, Roy let go of the support and would take DJ's hand whenever he climbed up on the play structure, giving him five or ruffling his hair or hugging his neck. Eventually, as the little boy's energy waned, he settled in his daddy's lap and snuggled up close. Roy wrapped an arm around him and looked up at Johnny, who stood nearby, watching them. "Thanks, Junior. This is good. This is real good."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"I've gotta do outpatient rehab, Doc." Roy had been practically bursting at the seams, waiting for a chance to talk with Dr. Brackett about rehab, especially after DJ's visit earlier that afternoon. But Brackett had been kept pretty busy down in the Emergency department for the last few days and hadn't been available to discuss the matter. Just after the orderly cleared away Roy's dinner tray, though, both Brackett and Early had dropped in for a visit and Roy had seized the opportunity. "My family needs me home. DJ threw a monster tantrum today because he thinks I've moved in here to stay! Meggie's mopin' about. Chris's grades are droppin'. You've gotta let me go home."

Brackett glanced at Dr. Early and then back at Roy. "There's an outstanding program at a facility not too far from here. They would even —"

"No, Doc. I'm sure it's a great place like you said, but nothing beats bein' at home in my own bed with —" Roy stopped short. Even if he could get back home, he was a long way from getting back to his own bed. First he had to learn to manage the stairs, and that would take a while. Still, the sofa bed in the guest room would be better than exchanging one hospital bed for another. "Please, Doc? Richardson agrees with me."

"Roy!" Brackett raised a hand as if it would hold back Roy's flow of words. "You didn't let me finish. Richardson talked with me about it already, and Joe here backed him up. The facility I'm talking about has an excellent outpatient program and I've already got your name on their list. How would you like to start a week from today?"

Roy's jaw dropped. "A week from today… ya mean… I'm goin' home before that?"

Early grinned. "You're making great progress, Roy. Of course, we'll need to get some x-rays of your arm tomorrow and see if we can't get you out of that cast soon. You'll need therapy on the arm as well, but there's no reason you can't do that on an outpatient basis."

Roy's smile stretched from one ear to the other. "Ya hear that, Mike?! I'm goin' home!"

"That's fantastic, Roy!" Mike was sitting up in bed, playing a game of Backgammon with Beth. He plunked the dice in the cup and shook, then rolled. "Drat!"

Beth giggled. "Sorry, love… you're still stuck on the bar."

Mike chuckled. "Figures… I never can beat you at this game." While Beth played her turn, Mike looked up at the doctors. "So Doc, what happened with Evans?"

Kel's gaze darted from Roy to Mike and back to Roy. "He… um… didn't make through surgery."

The information slammed into Roy like a ton of bricks, leaving him struggling to catch his breath. His heart started racing and his vision greyed around the edges. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to draw in a deep enough breath to fill his lungs. Suddenly he felt someone's hands near his face. At first he tried to push them away, but then he realized that he was breathing easier. One of the docs must have gotten an oxygen mask on him. He blinked his eyes open to see Joe Early's concerned eyes looking down at him. Just behind Dr. Early stood an obviously frantic Mike, with Beth holding him back.

"Roy? Are you breathing better now?" Early asked.

Roy just nodded. He didn't trust his voice at the moment. The news had stirred up his confusion and anger and hurt all over again, and the sudden shift in his emotions had thrown him for a loop.

Dr. Brackett slid his fingers around Roy's wrist and glanced at his watch for a moment, then let go. "Heart rate's coming back down," he said with a satisfied nod. "I'm sorry, Roy. I should have prepared you better for that news."

"I'm OK," he croaked out. It was a lie, but he had managed to gather his composure enough to make it sound believable. Hey, he hadn't spent the last 16 years in the fire service without learning to mask his own feelings in order to calm the victim. "Just caught me by surprise… All I need is a little time to process it."

"Take all the time you need, Roy. Tell you what — I think Richardson is still here. I'll send him up."

Roy appreciated Brackett's suggestion, but he shook his head. "No need, Doc. I'm meetin' with him tomorrow." He reached for the TV remote. "I think I just want to watch the game and get some sleep.

Early frowned, and Roy knew the kindly doctor had seen right through him. For a minute, he thought the doc would press the matter, but Joe's expression softened and he patted Roy's shoulder. "I'm on the night shift, so I'll come up and check on you a bit later." He nodded to Brackett. "Well, Kel… about time we got back to the trenches. We'll see you later, Roy… Mike… Mrs. Stoker."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

At a glance from Mike, Beth nodded and started clearing their Backgammon game before the doctors had even reached the door. Mike appreciated the way his wife generally knew what he was thinking before he ever spoke it. Some people thought it was because they were an "old married couple." More than two decades of marriage had certainly honed their communication skills, but more than anything it was the trials of those early years that had given each of them such an acute ability to read the other.

With her nod, Beth had let Mike know she understood that he needed to talk privately with Roy. Most likely, she even knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. She slid the travel Backgammon set into her purse. "I love you, honey," she said softly. "I'll be back tomorrow morning after I drop the boys at school." She bent to brush her lips across Mike's.

No one else would notice it, but Mike caught the tension in her tone. He was in for it once he got discharged. Beth was proud of him, but he knew his actions this morning had scared her half to death.

He had forgotten she was driving up to visit her sister in Riverside today. Apparently, she had arrived at Angie's house just in time to see him collapse on the newscast. At least she'd missed the part where he had his hands on that live grenade, though Angie had filled her in. Then Angie had insisted on driving her panicked baby sister home — she would spend the night, and her son, a student at UCLA, would drive her back to Riverside tomorrow.

Mike put a hand on the nape of Beth's neck and held her there so he could draw out the kiss a little longer. "I'm sorry for everything, Honey. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank Angie for me, OK? Oh… and close the door when you go out." He stroked Beth's cheek and kissed her again, then pulled back his hand and let her go.

She slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and then Mike rolled on his side to look at his roommate. Roy was facing the opposite wall. Tension radiated off of him. Well, Mike wasn't going to let him clam up. He understood the instinct — he was a master of it himself — but he knew it wouldn't do Roy any good.

"I call bull," he said, lacing his words with just enough derision he knew they would get a reaction. He felt a bit guilty for it, but sympathy would just embarrass his friend.

Roy turned to face him, his forehead wrinkling with confusion. "Huh?"

"I call bull. You told Dr. Early you were OK, but I know better. C'mon, Roy… how many times have I heard you use that calm, flat voice with a victim when you knew things were really bad but you didn't want to worry them? You're not OK. You're mad as hell and I don't blame you."

"I'm not —"

Mike sighed and sat up. "You don't have to pretend with me. I get it."

"Like hell you do." Roy turned away again.

Mike scoffed as he blinked back tears. "What do you know? I've been there —" His voice caught in his throat and he choked back a sob. "Hell… this isn't about me. Roy, trust me. I know what you're feeling and you've got to let it out or it's going to destroy you. You've got —" He drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly, clenching his hands into fists in an effort to stop their trembling. "You've got to tell him, Roy. Just… let him have it. Pretend he's sitting in that chair there and let loose."

Roy stayed silent for a long moment and then his next words came out in a strangled sob. "I shouldn't feel this way, Mike. I shouldn't hate… but I hate him… and —"

"Don't tell me, Roy. Tell him." Mike had stopped trying to keep the tears back. His own heartache threatened to swallow him all over again as his mind took him back to that awful autumn day when he and Beth had lost their baby girl.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 _ **October 8, 1966**_

"What do you mean, she disappeared? She was with you, Beth! You were watching her!" Mike paced the length of the phone cord and back, oblivious to the activity around him. He'd been dragged out of bed by his C.O. before dawn to take a call from his father. In short order, he was on emergency leave waiting for transport home and he'd managed to put in a call to his distraught wife. Beth and Sarah had been staying with his parents in Fresno ever since he was deployed a year ago.

"We were hiking with friends… Emma called my name… I turned away for just a second and when… when I looked back —"

"Dammit, Beth!" He'd leaned back against the wall and sunk to the floor, cursing the distance between him and home. He needed to be there, to be searching for Sarah. "You know how she likes to wander! And she's so friendly… anyone could —" His voice failed him. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud… the very idea that someone might actually have taken his baby made him physically ill.

He'd last seen Beth three weeks ago on leave. She'd left Sarah with his parents and met him in Tokyo for a magical 48 hours. But he hadn't seen Sarah since he deployed. She'd been barely two and a real daddy's girl. His last memory of her was the day he'd embarked with his battalion. Sarah had burst into tears when he said goodbye and handed her over to her grandpa.

"Mike, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." A twinge of guilt sent a shudder through him. He could hear the desperation in her voice, but he didn't care. A call went over the intercom for his flight. He stumbled to his feet and slammed the handset back on the cradle without saying goodbye.

When he staggered off the plane at Pendleton about 24 hours later, the young Marine was relieved to find a car waiting to drive him to Fresno. He figured Dad's name still had some pull even though he was retired. The image of Beth when he saw her would remain etched on his memory forever — her face pale and tear-streaked, her eyes bloodshot, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched. Mike's heart went out to her and he wanted to pull her into an embrace and never let her go, but at the same time he was just so angry he couldn't bring himself to touch her. He went to his mother instead, wishing he were a little kid who could still climb in her lap and let her kiss the tears away.

That night, to his mother's dismay, he slept on the sofa. A cold silence grew up between him and Beth. They coexisted under one roof, but the gulf between them only widened as the days passed with no word. A couple weeks later, Mike had to report back to Camp Pendleton. He and Beth moved in to a small house on base and took separate bedrooms. He had transferred from the 7th Engineer Support Battalion to spend the remainder of his deployment in Pendleton's base fire department, from one Big Red to another.* He reported for duty his first day feeling numb. The crew had been apprised of his situation and tried to draw him out, to give him some hope, but he just withdrew into himself. He threw himself into his work and the station quickly became more of a home to him than the house he and Beth shared.

The only thing that kept them together during those dark months was a false sense that somehow he was honoring his vow by staying with her — he knew now he'd actually trampled that vow in the dirt with his accusations and his anger. He'd said, 'till death do us part,' and they were both still alive… on the outside at least. Inside, he felt as if he were slowly choking to death. Beth, meanwhile, had shut down, incapable of choosing to leave him.

And then one morning, he almost lost his wife… his unborn sons, too, though he didn't know about them at the time. Beth had called him at work, sobbing, hysterical, begging him to come home. Something in her voice scared him, and he hadn't waited for roll call. He'd just shouted to Captain Wallace that he had a family emergency and ran. When he got home, he threw open the door and pounded his way up the stairs to the bedroom where Beth was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at a handful of Valium pills.

"Tell me why I shouldn't take them all, Mike," she'd whispered as he stood frozen in shock for a moment that seemed like an eternity.

He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her into his arms. "Because I love you, Beth. Because I can't lose you too. Because it wasn't your fault and I'm so very sorry for the terrible things I said to you." He wrapped a hand around hers and slid the pills from her grasp and in that moment he felt his heart jolted back to life. He couldn't save Sarah, but he still had his Beth and he loved her and needed her and wasn't about to let her go.

He'd been granted an additional 30 days of leave and his folks had rented them a cabin up near Big Bear. In spite of pressure to get her into a treatment program, his instincts told him the last thing Beth needed was for him to send her away. The chaplain agreed. "Keep her close, Stoker," he counseled. "She is grieving, just as you are. Medication and treatment programs have their place, and maybe that will help her later, but for now you both have feelings you must work through together." Mike had gone to Father Connally to seek counsel and make confession. The guilt he felt over pushing Beth to the very edge was crushing, and he craved absolution even though he knew he didn't deserve it.

That month of isolation became a time of healing for them and for their fractured relationship. They'd wept, they'd screamed, they'd written long letters, letting their feelings flow out of them onto the pages. Instead of numbing her emotions with Valium, Beth had confronted them with her husband holding her hand through it all. One night, following the recommendation of a therapist Mike had consulted before taking this trip, they placed an empty chair in front of the fireplace and pretended the person who took their Sarah was sitting in it. Then they had taken turns unleashing their anger at him until all their energy was spent. That night, for the first time, Beth had welcomed her husband's touch again and they had loved deeply, finding joy in each other even in the midst of their sorrow.

They returned to Camp Pendleton a week later feeling renewed and ready to face life again. The grief was still there — Mike knew it would always be with them — but they were getting stronger; they had found that together, they could bear that grief without breaking. Suffering had changed them both. Mike had always been a laconic man, but losing Sarah made him even quieter. When the twins were born, almost exactly nine months after that last happy weekend in Tokyo, Beth had thrown herself fully into raising them, determined never to take her eyes off them.

He'd finished up the final year of his enlistment at Pendleton and then transferred into the Los Angeles County Fire Department, starting as a lineman at Station 36. His shift's engineer was Hank Stanley. Before long, he was promoted to Engineer and assigned to 51's A-Shift. He and Beth struggled sometimes, but they loved their boys and they loved one another and they got through each day. For a while, things got dark again when they almost lost Ian to illness at age three. This time, they knew what to do. They latched on to one another and held tight, determined to weather the storm together. Their son had survived, and they had grown stronger and closer. And when the day finally came that they received the news they had dreaded — Sarah's remains had been found with her kidnapper's in the wreckage of a car in King's Canyon — he'd felt a volatile mixture of emotions. Gratitude that he didn't have to spend the rest of his life wondering where she was or if she was suffering… relief, because the autopsy showed she hadn't been violated and she had died quickly… fury, because she was gone forever… cheated, because he wanted to see the kidnapper suffer, wanted to get justice. And this was why he could understand Roy now. He really had been there.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"Mike?" Somehow the current silence from his friend had a different quality than what Roy was accustomed to. He shifted in bed and glanced in Mike's direction, only to find him sitting up, staring at nothing in particular, clutching his pillow tight against his chest. And was that a tear tracking its way down his cheek? "Mike… you OK, pal?"

When it seemed Mike didn't hear him, Roy wasn't quite sure what to say or do, but one thing he knew for certain — his friend had been absolutely serious when he said that he'd been there, that he really did understand.

He gazed at the empty chair next to his bed and imagined Howard Evans sitting in it. He'd only seen the man briefly on the newscast, but it had been enough. Just now, he could see him quite clearly, and everything Mike had told him about the man sent a shudder of revulsion through him.

"Damn you, Evans!" he growled. "There's not a pit deep enough for you… nor a hell hot enough. It's not even the damn leg I care about at this point. It's my family and losing so much time with them because I'm stuck here… it's the kids you killed and the ones you tried to kill… they were just babies. They didn't deserve what you did to them. All because you were pissed over a woman who dumped you, who wouldn't take the crap you dished out at her, who decided she wouldn't let you beat her again?! I'm done with you, Evans. I'm not letting you take anything more from me, do you hear me?!" He hardly realized when his hand closed on the pitcher of water on the table next to him and he hurled it hard at the chair. In his mind's eye, Evans flinched away from the projectile but still ended up looking like a drowned rat. "You aren't going to win. You're dead and soon you'll be buried and no one will even shed a tear, but I'm going to keep living and making a difference and every single day I will find a way to triumph over you. I have my family and my friends… I have my work… and you… you have nothing but dirt. Just like Dao… just like Jabber… You. Are. Nothing."

He sank back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He was exhausted, more than he would have been from a week of his PT's torture, but he felt good. Really good. Happy, even. He was going home next week and he would throw himself 100 percent into his therapy so that he could start his new job, working side by side with his best friend again.

The sound of a throat clearing startled Roy, and he opened his eyes to see Mike nodding his head in approval, a genuine smile stretched across his features. "Well done, Roy. Well done."

Someday, Roy knew he needed to hear Mike's story, but for now, he was content knowing his own story was continuing and that he had a friend who truly understood walking this road with him.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Notes**

 ***When I chose the 7th Engineer Support Battalion for Mike, it was because they were based in California (I wanted him living there) and they deployed to Vietnam in August 1965, which was perfectly timed for the backstory I had developed for him. Only when I went back a third time to the article on this Battalion did I notice their nickname was Big Red. That just seemed like confirmation that I was on the right track!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: After the last chapter, I thought we needed something lighter, and I hope this chapter will bring you all some smiles. Murdock is back, and this time he brought a friend with him. There is also a cameo appearance by a special guest.**

 **Katbybee was a huge help with the press conference! Kat, thank you especially for lending your skills with writing Murdock. He is so much fun! Thank you also to Piscean6724 for being a fantastic beta. You ladies rock!**

 **Marbo, yes, I think the story is gradually winding down. I'm starting to think a few things I had planned for** _ **The Hard Road**_ **may have to wait for another story, but we'll see what happens.**

 **I'm still working toward that 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo, and finishing this story is my main project, so you can expect chapter 22 to come soon! And now, without further ado… Chapter 21!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The receptionist at LA County Fire Department HQ didn't recognize the fellow with the salt and pepper hair and the neatly trimmed beard and mustache who approached the desk about 8:30 that morning. He handed her two manila envelopes with the names Roy DeSoto and Mike Stoker scrawled on them. "Good morning, ma'am. Could you please see that these are delivered?"

She recognized the names. Who wouldn't after yesterday's news? And she happened to know that Chief Stanley would be heading over to Rampart Hospital within the hour. "Of course, sir, I'll be glad to."

"Thank you. Have a nice day." He smiled and winked.

"You too, sir." She returned his smile, then set the envelopes in her out-box as she watched the mysterious visitor turn toward the door. He was gone as quickly as he had come.*

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank hadn't been particularly surprised when the news broke on Channel 5. Of course the report on the attempted arson at the preschool and the heroic fire captain who stopped it was the headline story of just about every newscast in the country, whether local or national. He and Emily had been watching the six o'clock news together, and when they showed the video of Mike with his hands over the arsonist's, preventing him from releasing the hand grenade, he shook his head and muttered, "I really oughta kill the twit for that stunt!" Then the image faded and Mike's service photo had come up as the anchor intoned, "Our viewers are asking just who is this local hero. We have been unable to speak with Captain Michael Stoker tonight. He is known to have been transported to Rampart Hospital after collapsing at the scene, but Doctor Kelly Brackett refused to allow reporters access or to comment on Captain Stoker's condition..."

Hank chuckled at the footage of an angry Dr. Brackett closing in on the reporters, his hand raised as if he were about to bat some unfortunate photographer's camera across the room. "Good for Brackett," he murmured, and he tilted his beer bottle toward the screen in a salute. "I owe you one, Doc."

"...So we have reached out to local firefighters who have worked with Captain Stoker." Suddenly Chet Kelly's face filled the screen.

Hank grunted. "Figures they'd get Chet."

"Stoker? He's a good guy. Real quiet, but solid." Chet flashed a grin at the camera. "I taught him everything he knows." Hank just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Next up were Matthew Carter and Alex Bowman, from Mike's current crew. They painted their captain as a family man, devoted to his wife and twin sons, a taciturn but effective leader, a man of deep-seated integrity, and definitely someone you'd want on your side in any crisis. Hank had told the reporters as much, though he'd refused to do so on camera.

When Mike's service photo came up again, this time it was next to a black and white snapshot of a smiling little girl, thick black hair falling around her shoulders and mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned toward the camera — Hank happened to know that Mike always carried a copy of this photo in his wallet, behind the pictures of his wife and the twins. "Captain Michael Stoker is also a former Marine who has seen his share of tragedy," the anchor continued, and he went on to tell the whole story of the loss of Sarah Stoker. Hank sure the hell hoped Mike hadn't seen that.

As the report ended and the picture faded, the phone started to ring. Hank switched off the TV and reluctantly picked up the handset. "Hank, Ken Johnson here. Did you see the news?"

"Yeah, I saw it."

"Did you know Mike had a little girl?"

There was no point in denying it now. At least he knew he could trust Ken to have Mike's best interests in mind. "Yeah, I knew. But I sure as hell didn't tell anyone."

"Never thought you would have." Johnson's conciliatory tone soothed Hank's indignation. "My guess is, they dug through old news releases looking for his name, or maybe someone at Pendleton pointed them in that direction."

"Could be. They went at me pretty hard, till I sent them packing." As Mike's former Captain, Hank had fielded numerous calls from reporters throughout the day. As a matter of fact, he'd repeated the line, "No comment" more than half a dozen times when he felt the questions were too pointed. No one had asked him directly about Stoker's daughter, but they clearly wanted to learn as much as they could about his past.

When they couldn't get what they wanted from Stanley, the press had clearly gone digging and unearthed the entire story, throwing it up on the screen for everyone to see, without considering that they might be resurrecting a world of hurt for Mike and his family. Tragedy won viewers and sold newspapers, even more than heroism did.

Hank sighed. "Listen, Ken. I need to call Beth. I talked with her earlier and she said reporters were just about beating down the door — they even mobbed the Stoker boys at the bus stop. They've got reporters practically camped right outside their house." When he'd heard that, he'd contacted local police immediately, and a couple of officers had parked themselves in front of the house to assure the press stayed off the property. And Hank happened to know that several of the boys from 51's had showed up to help out as well. They needed to make some sort of plans before Mike was discharged, because he couldn't go home to that. Hank sure wasn't willing to throw his friend to the wolves!

And that is what brought him to Dr. Brackett's office the following morning. A newspaper lay on the desk between them, Mike's service photo on the front page. Under the paper, a couple of manila envelopes peeked out. "We've got to find a way to get Mike out of here without attracting media attention, Doc. The press is having a field day with this. Did you see the news last night?"

Brackett gave a grim nod. "I did, and I completely agree with you."

"Mike's a strong man and a good man. But he hates attention and he really doesn't need them asking questions about his daughter. So, what do you suggest, Doctor?"

"I say we schedule a press conference." Brackett raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"What?!" Hank's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "I thought we were trying to keep him away from the media."

"Of course." Brackett leaned back in his chair. "So we schedule a press conference, then, after all the reporters are assembled in the conference room, we sneak Stoker out the back door into an ambulance. Transport him to a hotel where he and his family can hide out until the excitement dies down."

"And what do we tell the reporters? You know they're also clamoring to talk to Roy, get his take on all this."

Brackett chuckled. "Let John Gage talk to them. Mike and Roy can prepare a statement for him to read… and he can keep anyone's head spinning for however long we need."

Hank nodded and a smile gradually spread across his face. "Ya know, Doc, I think that just might work, though I'd rather send him a little further away than a local hotel. I'll give Johnny a call now."

"No need, Chief. He's here right now for an appointment with Dr. Valdez. Should be done any time. I'll just put in a call upstairs and have the nurse send him down here when he's done."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny sat on the cushioned exam table in Dr. Valdez' office, waiting for the nurse to bring him the information he needed for starting his therapy. His arm felt odd without the hot, uncomfortable weight of the plaster cast encasing it. He sure was glad to be rid of the blasted thing, even though he'd only traded it for a Kleinert splint. The odd-looking contraption held his hand in traction with rubber bands that stretched from the nails of his three affected fingers to the underside of his arm. The splint would continue to protect his hand against rupture of the repaired tendons. If not for his broken arm, he would have had this special splint from the time he had surgery, and he would have begun passive range of motion exercises of almost immediately.

At least the fracture had healed well. Unfortunately, he still hadn't regained much sensation in his hand. Dr. Valdez said it might not improve much more, but really, only time would tell, and he would keep trying to hope for the best. He was impatient, though. He wanted things to get back to normal.

In the meantime, he had been preparing for a new normal. He had gotten better at using his left hand and could even sign his name somewhat legibly. He had Tex to thank for that. They'd been working together in the meadow every spare moment, preparing that path for Roy.

Tex was doing the bulk of the work. He was as strict as Brackett about Johnny taking proper care of his injured hand, and there wasn't a lot that he could do one-handed. But every day, Tex had some task for Johnny that seemed specifically designed to improve his dexterity with the left hand. Whenever Johnny would start to grumble, Tex would give him something more to do — his opinion was, the busier one kept, the less time one had to complain. Johnny remembered his dad taking the same view when he was a kid moaning about mending the fence line or helping dig post holes.

He had worried a little at first that the project might detract from the natural beauty of the setting, but he had come to trust that Tex knew what he was doing. As a migrant worker from his childhood, the man had mastered a wide variety of skills over the years. Mostly he'd worked in agriculture, but he had worked landscaping and construction as well. He told Johnny he thought a crushed gravel path would be best, but mixed with concrete to keep it from shifting underfoot.

To start, Tex sketched out his vision for the pathway, which would end in a platform they could fish from. Then the men used rope to mark out the course of the path from the meadow down to the creek. Weather permitting, next weekend, Hank Stanley and the rest of the old 51 A-shift crew would join them to help clear vegetation so they could level the ground. They would use the timber from the trees they cleared to line the path and build the fishing platform. It was an ambitious project, but the more they worked on it, the more excited Johnny got.

Callie and Tasembo had been the men's constant companions while they worked, frisking playfully about their feet as Bo taught Callie her manners. With the opportunity to get her energy out during the day, Callie's behavior in the house was improving rapidly. She was proving to be a smart pup, and Johnny was confident she'd be good for Roy. She sure would keep him busy, that much was certain.

A knock at the exam room door pulled him from his thoughts. A few seconds later, the nurse stepped in. "Here you go, Captain Gage. Your first appointment is already scheduled for 10:00 tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Doris." Johnny accepted the paper she held out to him. "I'll be there."

"I have a message for you too," Doris added. "Dr. Brackett wants you to see him before you leave. He said just go to his office."

Johnny nodded. "Will do." He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, then grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, giving Doris a parting nod as he passed by.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny frowned as he tossed the newspaper back on Brackett's desk. He hadn't seen the news broadcast Stanley and the doc had mentioned, and neither had Nita… she was off with JoAnne. Johnny had the idea the two women were conspiring on something, but Nita wouldn't whisper a word of it. He didn't mind — he loved seeing the sparkle in her eyes when he teased her about it, and he knew he'd find out eventually. But the whole story was in the paper this morning. Johnny knew Mike was going to be livid. He wouldn't care that they'd painted him as a hero in the most glowing terms, not when they'd paraded his family's private tragedy in front of the world. Mike had been hard pressed to share anything of his private life, even with his 51's brothers, over the years. "So let me get this straight, Chief… you want me to stand in for Mike at a press conference so he can get out of Dodge, so to speak?"

"Exactly. You know how Mike is," Stanley explained. "He won't want to face those reporter twits, especially now that they've latched on to this. Now, we haven't talked with him about it yet; we wanted to make sure you agreed to the plan before we set it in motion."

Johnny sipped his coffee and nodded. "Sure, I'll be glad to help. I'm supposed to go on duty with dispatch at noon, though."

"Not anymore. You've been reassigned for the day." Stanley set his coffee mug on the end table by his chair and looked at Johnny, his mouth quirking up in a chagrined smile. "I had a feeling you'd agree, so I already took care of that part with HQ."

Johnny shook his head and chuckled. "Well then… I guess it's settled."

"Good." Brackett pushed his chair back and stood. "Why don't we head upstairs and talk with Mike and Roy? I need to get his discharge started anyway."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy glanced over at Mike and then back at his newspaper. Now he understood what his friend had been getting at the previous day. The headline read, "Local fireman rises from tragedy to heroism." Roy thought he remembered the story of Sarah Stoker from a news account back when she first disappeared, but he hadn't known Mike then. By the time they met a few years later, he never made the connection and Mike didn't volunteer anything. _I'm kinda glad I slept through the media frenzy after I was injured,_ he thought. _Makes me wonder what they published that Jo never showed me._ He'd seen a few of the articles, but he knew Jo had screened them first. At least one mentioned that he had been a POW in 'Nam, but as far as he knew, no one had dug up anything more than that, and by the time he woke up, the media had moved on to the next big thing.

Mike hadn't seen the paper yet. He'd had a restless night and was sleeping now. Roy wondered if his mind kept going over all the other ways things might have turned out.

Just after the candy striper delivered the breakfast trays, someone rapped on the door in the rhythm of "Shave and a haircut, two bits."

"Come in," Roy called, looking up to see Murdock's navy blue ball cap pop through the doorway. He chuckled. "Good to see you again, Murdock."

"Good to see you too, muchacho!" Murdock nodded toward Mike. "Saw my ol' buddy there on the news last night. Thought I'd come pay a visit. Didn't realize till they gave me the room number that I'd be seeing you too." He held up a white paper bag. "I brought donuts… there's plenty for you to share."

"Thanks! Sure beats hospital food." Roy accepted the bag, peer in, and then pulled out a bear claw. "Mike and I used to be on the same shift over at 51's. He's a good friend. Anyway… it's a good thing you came when you did. He'll be heading home later this morning. Doc just kept him overnight for observation. He… um… didn't sleep too good last night."

Murdock nodded. "How about you… how're you sleepin' these days?"

Roy swallowed the bite he'd just taken of his donut. "Better, thanks. No more nightmares." He lay the newspaper down and pushed the swivel table out of the way. "So, how do you know Mike?"

"Oh, he came to 'Nam about a year after you left and we became friends. I drove him to the airfield the day he left for home." He indicated the newspaper. "Saw that this morning and figured he might need some support."

"I'll say." Roy sighed. "He's not gonna like that they dredged up this story."

"What story?" Mike mumbled drowsily.

Roy turned his head and saw his friend blink open his eyes. "Hey, Mike… look who's here. Guess we have a mutual friend."

"Hello, Mikey!" Murdock reclaimed the bag of donuts and passed it to Stoker. He looked down towards the ground and waggled a finger. "Billy, hop on up there and say hello to Mikey."

Roy's forehead wrinkled. "Billy? Who's Billy?"

"Man's best friend, Roy!" Murdock flashed him a broad grin. "Guess I acquired him after you left 'Nam… he an' Mikey Mantle are good friends."

"Mikey… Mantle?" Roy scrunched up his eyes and stared at Murdock in confusion, especially when Mike started patting the air and murmuring to Billy.

"Oh, Mikey earned a reputation on base in 'Nam," Murdock explained. "Best slugger we had, and a great center fielder… always pitched kinda wild, though. There was already a Mickey on base, though, so he became Mikey."

Mike glanced over at Roy and gave a slight shrug, then patted the air again. "Howling Mad Murdock… it's good to see you. Been a long time."

"Too long, Mikey." Murdock moved to Mike's bedside. "I wasn't sure if I'd bring up bad memories by comin', but when I saw the news, I felt like I needed to be here."

"Thanks, Murdock. Glad you came." Mike gestured to the chair, but his eyes went to Roy. "Now, Roy… what story were you talking about?"

Roy sighed. "Sarah," he said quietly, and he held the paper out toward Murdock, who passed it to Mike.

A shadow fell across Mike's face as he took the paper and unfolded it to read the front page story. After a few minutes, he lay it down on his lap and heaved a long sigh as he leaned back against his pillow. "Well, Roy… now you know."

"I'm sorry, Mike… I…" Roy's voice faded. There were no words adequate for something like this. Maybe that explained Mike's inclination towards silence.

No one spoke for a moment, then Mike got up and moved to the window. "They're outside wanting to talk to me, aren't they?"

"The press?" Roy asked.

Murdock shifted in his seat. "There's a big ol' crowd of 'em, yeah."

"Damn… they've probably already been pestering Beth and the boys."

"It'll blow over before long, Mike." Roy could tell his words weren't as comforting as he hoped they would be. Mike just kept staring out the window, his shoulders hunched, his whole body seeming to pull inward as if he were a turtle trying to hide in its shell.

After a long silence, he said, "It won't blow over. Maybe for them, but not for us. The boys didn't even know about Sarah, but I guess they do now. I should have been there when they found out… should have been with Beth. Why didn't she call me?!"

"Protecting you?" Roy asked. He was pretty sure Jo had kept things from him for the same reason while he was hospitalized, and he hated that.

"I'm supposed to protect her, dammit!" Mike shot back. Roy couldn't argue — he felt exactly the same way.

"Now, Mikey," Murdock soothed as he scooped up his invisible dog from the bed, "I'm no expert on marriage, but I figure you gotta give her a turn at it too. If she's the half the woman you told me about back in 'Nam, she won't think any less of you."

Mike looked at Murdock. "Maybe you're right... I don't know." Anything further he might have said was cut off by a knock on the door, and Doc Brackett walked in with Chief Stanley and Johnny.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Surprisingly, John Gage had taken to Billy as easily as Mike did. When Murdock scolded the dog for jumping up in Johnny's lap, Johnny said, "No problem. He just knows a dog lover when he sees one," and started stroking the air.

Brackett, Stanley, and Roy had looked on, brows wrinkled in bewilderment, but then they'd gotten to business and discussed their plans.

Mike didn't say much, and he spent most of the discussion staring out the window and avoiding eye contact. Roy wasn't particularly surprised, but he was worried. His friend was showing all the signs of withdrawing into himself, the way he'd done back when Ian was a toddler and got so sick. Roy wouldn't even have known about it if Mike hadn't called him one night when they were off duty. The three-year-old had spiked a high fever that caused a seizure. No wonder Mike had practically shut down for a couple weeks there — not only was he facing the possible loss of his son, but he had already lost a daughter. Thank God, Ian survived.

In the end, Mike finally turned away from the window and nodded his head. "It's a good plan. Thanks, Doc. Thanks, Chief. You too, Johnny."

Once Brackett and Stanley had left, Johnny remained. He joked that Stanley had assigned him to babysitting duty. "I'm supposed to make sure Mike doesn't try any other daredevil stunts," he quipped. "Stoker, the way I hear it, Chief was just about ready to draw an' quarter you for what you did yesterday… thing is, he was too proud of you to carry through… at least not before pinnin' a medal on you."

"Don't want a medal," Mike grunted. He had a sheet of paper and a pen and was busy scrawling his statement.

Roy was half-watching Mike, half-listening in on Johnny and Murdock. Soon enough, the conversation between the two men captured his full attention.

"You want to help with the press conference? What'll you do?" Johnny asked.

"Oh, I'll be one of the reporters… I think I'm just about crazy enough to pull it off. We'll keep 'em hopping and they won't even know Mike made a clean getaway till it's too late. Sit, Billy. There's a good boy." Murdock patted on the invisible dog with one hand while his other hand tapped out a rapid rhythm on his thigh. Roy remembered how in Camp 208, Murdock's nervous energy frequently got him in trouble. The man was hardly ever still.

Johnny graced Murdock with one of his trademark smiles. "Well a'right, Murdock," he drawled. Roy always knew when his friend was excited about something when he lapsed into his southern accent. "This might end up bein' a lotta fun."

"Oh brother," Roy said. "I'm not sure whether to be fascinated or terrified by whatever the two of you are conspiring to do. Maybe I should just appear at this press conference and give them half of what they want."

He regretted the suggestion almost immediately. Within seconds, Johnny and Murdock had turned on him with such crestfallen expressions, he knew if he didn't give in, he would devastate both his friends. "Never mind… I hate talkin' to the press anyway. But are you sure you won't freeze, Johnny? I remember when we were on TV together and —"

"Hey!" Johnny threw his good hand to his chest and Roy knew a rant was forthcoming. "That first time, you just kept interruptin' me before I could finish a thought, and that other time, you froze up just as bad as I did." He rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine, Roy."

Roy threw up a hand in surrender, hoping to nip any further indignation in the bud. "No problem… it's all yours. I didn't really want to do it anyway. I'm sure you'll be great."

Johnny eyed him for a moment before lowering his hand. He gave a brisk nod, and then returned to patting the invisible dog. Suddenly he stopped. "Whatcha doin' Billy?! You're not allowed on the bed!"

"Ah, let him say hi to Doc D," Murdock countered. "Doc, looks like you gotta new friend."

Roy shook his head in disbelief. "C'mon, you guys! There's no dog there!"

"Roy!" Johnny's hand flew to his chest again. "How could you hurt Billy's feelings that way? Now pat him on the head and say you're sorry!"

Roy glared at him. Johnny had to be joking, but he was acting completely serious. Roy would never hear the end of it if he didn't pet the invisible dog, so he raised his hand and made a petting motion.

Johnny and Murdock just about busted out laughing. "Um… Roy," Murdock said, "He's on the other side of you, by your pillow. You're just pettin' the air, brother!"

Roy shook his head slowly as his gaze traveled from Murdock to Johnny and back to Murdock. _If you can't beat 'em, join 'em._ He glanced at Mike and saw that the man was watching him too, a slight smile playing about his lips. _Fine. He would run with it._ "Well, if you must know, I'm pettin' my raccoon, Herbert. Don't want him gettin' jealous."

At that, the four men dissolved in laughter. The most welcome sound to Roy's ears was Mike's chortle, something he'd heard far too rarely over the years.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy tapped his pen on the paper as he thought about what to write. What did he want to say to the press? Mike had read his statement to them an hour ago. At first he'd joked that his initial inclination was to give them just two words, short, sweet, and directly to the point — "Buzz off!" But instead he had written a politely worded paragraph, affirming that he had merely been doing the job he was trained to do and that any other firefighter in the right place at the right time would have done the same. Roy wasn't so sure. With the fishtank, sure, and running in to save those kids, but where the grenade was concerned? Well, Roy had walked into danger too many times to count, but he didn't think he'd have had the guts to do that. Then again, maybe it was like Mike had said when they talked about it earlier — if he'd had time to think about it, he probably wouldn't have done it, but with only a split second to assess the situation and take action, it seemed like the best way to resolve things positively.

Finally, the words began to flow.

 _I'm not going to offer more than a brief comment on an event I can't remember and most likely never will. When it comes to the Sunny Estates Apartment fire, I was just doing my job the best I could, like every other fireman who was there. I was one link in a long chain of people who worked that fire, and I couldn't have done any of it on my own._

 _I want to thank my good friend Captain Mike Stoker for his dedication to pursuing justice, not only for me but for those who lost their lives, for the parents who lost their children, and for those whose homes were destroyed because of the actions of an arsonist whose name doesn't need any more press. Mike's quick actions yesterday saved lives and saved property. He has said that any other fireman would have done the same thing. To a point, he is right, but I think he went above and beyond the call. Mike is a humble man. He doesn't want your accolades any more than I do, but I think he deserves them more. At the same time, he is a private man, and I urge you to respect that. I've always taught my kids that words have power. They can open deep wounds or they can bring healing. I regret that by your rabid commitment to the proposition that tragedy sells, you are giving them such a stark example of the former, at great cost to a family very dear to my own._

He sighed and then scribbled out the last three sentences. Taking the press to task like that would definitely cause him trouble with his superiors, even if they agreed with him in principle. He thought for a moment, then decided it was enough, even if it did end a bit abruptly. Taking a fresh sheet of paper, he wrote out a clean copy, signed his name at the end, then crumpled up the rough draft and tossed it into the trash can.

"Hey, Johnny… this is done. Might as well deal with whatever's in those envelopes." Chief Stanley had delivered them, but Roy and Mike had waited to open them. They figured it had to be insurance paperwork or legal documents, and they wanted to put it off at least a while. But now was as good a time as any.

"Sure." Johnny passed him the envelope with his name on it.

Roy slid a finger under the edge of the flap to break the seal and open the envelope. When he drew out the contents, his jaw dropped — it was a simple folder with a message scrawled across the front: "For Roy DeSoto, a real life superhero. From the whole gang at Marvel Comics. Excelsior! Stan Lee."*

Roy flipped open the folder and stared in disbelief at a full-colored comic-style drawing of himself, dressed in turnouts and a red, yellow, and orange superhero cape, carrying three children from a burning building. At the top was the name "Mega Medic"; at the bottom, it was signed by John Romita.

Though he had never let on to his friends, Roy was a huge fan of Marvel Comics. He owned a copy of every single _The Amazing Spider-Man_ comic that had ever been published, and lately he had started collecting _Daredevil_ and _The Incredible Hulk._ He didn't really feel as if he deserved a tribute like this — in fact, he could think of plenty of fellows who deserved it more — but he would treasure it forever.

He slipped the drawing back into the folder for safekeeping, but Johnny was too quick for him. "What is it, Roy? That doesn't look like official documents."

Roy felt his cheeks warm. "Just a… note of appreciation, that's all."

"Bull." Johnny snagged the folder and Roy watched as his eyes scanned the note on the cover. "Marvel Comics?! Damn, Roy!" When he opened the cover and saw the drawing, he gawked wordlessly for a moment. Then he guffawed. "Mega Medic… that's rich! Murdock, come look at this! Mike… you gotta open yours!"

Murdock's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Roy was pretty sure everybody on this hall could hear his excited chattering. "Whoa, man, you're a superhero, Roy! I bet you've got superpowers an' everything! Billy, check this out! This is so cool!" He started bouncing from one end of the room to the other, practically careening off the walls. "Mikey Mantle, open yours! Hurry up!"

Roy rolled his eyes, but his grin stretched from ear to ear. Curious about what Mike's envelope held, he shifted in bed so he could watch his friend open it. "Yeah, c'mon Mike."

Mike opened his envelope and pulled out the folder inside. He cleared his throat, then read the note aloud. Other than the name, it was identical to Roy's note. Then he opened the cover and breathed out a low whistle at what he saw there. "This. Is. Awesome."

Roy watched as the smile crept across Mike's face and chased the shadows from his eyes. "Well, c'mon… let us see it."

Mike held out the folder and Johnny took it, holding it so Roy and Murdock could see too. Inside was a drawing of Mike, also signed by Romita, under the title "Sergeant Crush." Dressed in his turnouts and wearing a cape in Marine blue with red trim, he stood behind a villain who was shown only in silhouette, and his hands were clamped down on a hand holding a grenade.

"Man, oh man!" Johnny exclaimed. "This is amazing." He placed the picture back in the folder and handed it over to Mike again. "You guys gotta get these framed."

"Yeah," Roy whispered as he stared at his own picture. He was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed and his eyes were misting. Damn, these emotions! At least this time it was something good he was tearing up over. Chris would be out of his mind when he saw this. Roy was starting to think that maybe he was the luckiest man alive, after all.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny sat at the front of the hospital conference room, facing the rows of chairs that had been set up for the reporters. All around the room, the voices of journalists buzzed. He knew Murdock was among them, with his phony press credentials, but he couldn't spot him just now. As he thought about the wacky pilot, he found himself almost looking forward to the question and answer session, and he wondered if Billy would make an appearance.

Gradually, the room filled. Johnny kept one eye on the clock and the other on Dr. Brackett, who sat to his right. To his left were Chiefs Stanley and Johnson. It was 2:25 now. The press conference was to begin at 2:30. About five minutes later, Dr. Early would be wheeling Mike out to a waiting ambulance. The ambulance would transport him to Station 110, where his family awaited, along with a driver who would take them up to a cabin near Big Bear, where they could spend the next week or so while things around here quieted down. Johnny reached inside the inner pocket of his jacket to make sure he hadn't lost the statements his friends had entrusted to him.

Brackett waited till a couple minutes after 2:30 to take the podium. He tapped on the microphone and cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press, and thank you for joining us. I am Dr. Kelly Brackett, head of Rampart Emergency. Before we hear from our guest of honor, I'd like to speak with you regarding the condition of those who were injured in yesterday's incident. Detective Barstow is in good condition. He was treated for a through-and-through gunshot wound yesterday. He received some minor muscle damage, but will recover fully. Preschool director Julia Cassidy received four stab wounds. She is in good condition and should be discharged tomorrow. I do not have permission to speak specifically regarding the children, but I can tell you they and their teachers were all released this morning. Finally, Captain Stoker will also be discharged today. He is in good condition and has suffered no ill effects from his smoke inhalation."

He surveyed the room, his eyes moving slowly from one journalist to the next. Johnny knew he planned to take his time and drag things out as long as possible. "Now I would like to yield the floor to Chief Ken Johnson, who headed up the Arson Investigation Team."

Chief Johnson moved to the podium, stopping briefly to shake Brackett's hand.

"Good afternoon. I understand that there are questions about how we identified our chief suspect and Captain Stoker's role in the investigation. I am here to give you a brief rundown of exactly how we arrived at our conclusions." Johnny watched the reporters carefully as Johnson delineated the process the team had gone through, giving special attention to Mike's role.

Johnny tuned out the chief's long speech… like Brackett, the man intended to be as long-winded as he could today. The whole thing reminded Gage a little bit of that part of The Sound of Music movie Nita had made him watch with her last Christmas, the scene where the von Trapp family was making their escape after performing at the film festival and all the performers who were called up to accept their prizes took their sweet time doing it, just to give the family more time to get away.

Johnny's eyes met Murdock's in the crowd and he had to suppress a chuckle. The man was dressed for the occasion in a trench coat with a brown fedora on his head instead of his usual blue ball cap. His phony press credentials were tucked under the hat band, and apparently Billy was sitting on his lap because he was moving his hand back and forth as if he were petting a dog. Johnny liked Murdock, and he liked his invisible dog. And he had a feeling that when the time came, this press conference was going to prove very interesting indeed!

Johnson was still droning on, so Johnny let his eyes move past Murdock, searching the crowd for anyone who might prove to be a problem. Most of the reporters seemed innocuous enough, but one big fellow down front was looking around, maybe trying to figure out where Mike and Roy were, and he did not seem impressed with Johnson in the least. Johnny immediately dubbed him Trouble. He caught Murdock's eye and raised his chin toward Trouble, hopeful that Murdock would catch his meaning and keep an eye on the man.

"...Captain John Gage."

Startled by the sound of his name, John stood and straightened his tie, then walked past Brackett and up to the podium. "Thank you, Chief."

He slid the statements from his pocket and lay them on the lectern in front of him, then took a minute to adjust his mic. In a matter of moments, as soon as they realized neither Mike nor Roy would be participating in the conference, the journalists would start getting restless. Some might leave in hopes of finding Stoker or DeSoto, but Brackett had made plans for that possibility. Mike was gone by now, and security guards would keep them from going upstairs and seeking out Roy. He really hoped whatever Murdock had planned would turn out to be such a good story, no one would want to leave. "Good afternoon." He felt those old nerves start to kick in. Shuddering slightly, he gulped in a breath of fresh air. "Uh… like Chief Johnson said, um… I am Captain John Gage." Damn, but he felt like an idiot! "I am here today as the personal representative of Captains Mike Stoker and Roy DeSoto, and I will be reading a statement from each of them."

Without even bothering to raise his hand or introduce himself, Trouble called out, his tone hostile, "What kind of farce is this? We were led to believe that Captain Stoker would be making a statement today, along with Captain DeSoto."

Johnny glanced at Brackett, then gave his attention to the journalist, trying to forget the cameras that were trained on him. "Captains DeSoto and Stoker were both given the opportunity to appear before you and both declined. However, I have their written statements, which I will read now. The floor will be open for questions after I'm done." He looked up to see that Murdock had moved down now and was sitting next to Trouble.

He unfolded the page with Mike's name on it. "I will begin with Captain Stoker's statement. 'I'm no hero. Yesterday, I happened to be in the right place at the right time. The actions I took were in line with my training and nothing more than any other firefighter would have done. I ask that you respect the privacy of my family at this time, especially in regards to the loss of Sarah. Thank you.'"

Johnny looked up, his eyes going immediately to Trouble. Murdock gave him a reassuring nod, so he continued. Gulping back his nerves and willing himself not to freeze, he unfolded Roy's statement and read it into the mic. When he had finished, he looked around. "We will now take questions you might have."

Trouble started to open his mouth and abruptly shut it again. Johnny could have sworn he saw Murdock smirk slightly and he wondered briefly what he'd done to the man.

A woman in the front raised her hand. She seemed harmless enough, so Johnny gestured toward her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Hello, Captain Gage. I'm Roberta Edelstein from the New York Gazette. Were you present at the preschool yesterday morning?"

 _Good… an easy question._ "No, ma'am. I was not."

The reporter next to the lady called out, "Al Sawyer, Channel 5. When can we expect to talk with Stoker and DeSoto?"

Gage shook his head. "Sorry, I can't speak for them on that."

Trouble called out, "From what I could see, Captain Stoker exceeded his authority when he approached the arsonist. Wouldn't you say it was a stupid move that could easily have just made things worse for everyone? The idiot wouldn't have thrown that grenade."

Shaking his head slightly, Johnny stared at the man for a moment before answering. "Sir, I'm sure glad we didn't have the chance to find out. Personally, I'm convinced Captain Stoker's quick thinking saved a lot of lives." An approving murmur ran around the room, letting him know that the prevailing opinion in the room was squarely on Mike's side. "Tell me… if you were in Captain Stoker's place, what would you have done?"

This time it was Trouble who was left speechless. All he could do was sputter, "I… um… well…" Several of the other reporters in the room chuckled.

Just then, Murdock made his move. Before Trouble could say anything else, he jumped to his feet and waved his hand eagerly.

Stifling a relieved sigh, Johnny pointed to Murdock. "Yes sir… gentleman in the fedora."

In a nasally Brooklyn accent Murdock called out, "Sylvester Knickerbocker, Bishopton Bee. I believe I speak for every correspondent in this room when I ask you this vital question, sir: Is Captain Stoker the real Michael Stoker or just some other fireman by the same name?"

Johnny could see the wily pilot's eyes dancing madly as he waited for an answer. He carefully schooled his expression, as if he took the question in all seriousness. "Well, Mr. Knickerbocker, Sir… that is an excellent question. I believe there are at least twelve Michael Stokers, six of them in California, but to my knowledge, Captain Michael Stoker is the only firefighter by that name in the Los Angeles area."

"Knickerbocker" appeared outraged. "In that case, how can you say with any certainty that the Michael Stoker in question does indeed wear Fruit of the Looms? Perhaps he wears BVDs! After all, there is no way to be certain unless all twelve Michael Stokers agree to appear before us, is that not correct?"

That question was almost too much for Johnny. He put a hand to his mouth and coughed to cover a laugh, and then had to take a drink of water to help him get himself under control. He glanced to Dr. Brackett and noticed the man had his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders were heaving. Chief Stanley's head was down and he was shaking. And Johnson? Well, he was just howling with laughter. Johnny wondered if he should have warned them about Murdock's plan in advance. The reporters seemed uncertain how to respond… some were scratching their heads in confusion, others staring dumbstruck, and a ripple of nervous laughter ran through the room. At least three cameramen had moved around to the front of the room to capture Murdock's likeness. Several hands went up, but Johnny ignored them and pulled off a perfect deadpan response.

"Mr. Knickerbocker, I am shocked that you would ask such a question. Don't you know any fireman worth his salt is a Fruit of the Loom man? However, I have not asked Captain Stoker his opinion and I cannot speak for him in this."

"Knickerbocker" smiled. "I will take that as a direct quote, sir. Oh and just one more question if I may."

"Certainly." Johnny's admiration for Murdock had grown by leaps and bounds. He had the reporters totally mesmerized by this point. Not a one had left. The troublemaker next to him had been effectively silenced and now sat slouched in his chair, glowering.

"I understand that Captain Stoker was a United States Marine, and that indeed, many of the men he serves with at his station are also veterans. Is this true?"

Johnny leaned into the mic, glad to address this question. "Indeed it is. We have many veterans serving throughout the department. They are men of great honor and courage and I am proud to serve with them. These men are worthy of the highest respect."

Murdock's dark eyes shone and he nodded, sitting down silently, curve ball thrown and caught. His plan had worked perfectly from beginning to end.

Johnny looked around the room one last time, giving Murdock a quick nod of thanks as his gaze passed over the man. "Are there any further questions?" Trouble was sitting on his hands now, scooted as far as he could get away from Murdock without ending up on the lap of the woman seated next to him. He didn't say a word, and no one else offered anything. Johnny thought they were probably all too stunned. "In that case, we will adjourn. Thank you for coming." He stepped back from the podium and returned to his seat.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊-•

 **NOTES**

 ***In a writer's group I'm part of on Facebook, the suggestion was made to give Stan Lee a cameo appearance in our NaNoWriMo project, and this was my response to that suggestion. RIP, Stan Lee.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: This week in the US, we celebrated Thanksgiving. My daughters were not home for the celebration this year, but I enjoyed a lovely feast with my husband and son. Among the many blessings in my life, I thank God for you, my wonderful readers! Your encouragement has been a great blessing to me! Thank you for the reviews and messages you send. I've fallen behind in responding to them, but intend to catch up after posting this chapter!**

 **Thank you also to my beta readers, Piscean6724 and katbybee. Talk about blessings! You amazing ladies are continually helping me to become a better writer!**

 **Marbo, reading your reviews is always a highlight of my day! Thank you for your thoughtful commentary, which often helps me as I plan out my next chapter! As you requested, I am including the Stoker Family's discussion. In answer to your question, the twins have recently turned 16.**

 **And now, for your reading enjoyment, Chapter 22!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 **Glossary**

 **Choctaw - English**

 **A** **hattak - My husband**

 **A** **ki - My father**

 **Ch** **i** **hullo li (akinli) - I love you (too)**

 **Satikchi - My wife**

 **Yakoke - Thank you**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Nita sat nervously in the driver's seat of JoAnne's station wagon while the examiner made some notes. She knew that parallel parking was her greatest weakness when it came to driving, and she hoped that she hadn't lost too many points. Her examiner had been very quiet, giving her no indication whatsoever whether she was doing well or not — just an occasional, "Turn right" or "merge left" or "stop here" — and that only made the test more stressful. But now, for better or for worse, she was done and if she passed her test, she would be the one to pick Johnny up from therapy. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.

At last, the examiner cleared his throat and Nita opened her eyes. "Congratulations, Mrs. Gage," he said. For the first time since he'd gotten in the car, he actually cracked a smile as he handed her the paper he'd just signed. "You can be very proud of yourself. Take this to the desk inside and they'll take your photograph."

In spite of her natural reserve, Nita wanted to squeal with glee as she accepted her temporary license from the examiner. "Thank you!" She couldn't wait to show it to JoAnne.

After the examiner had gotten out, she moved the car into a regular parking spot, then got out and hurried into the DMV. Jo sat in the waiting area, reading a book. "Jo!"

Her friend looked up and smiled broadly as Nita approached. "That glow on your face tells me you succeeded! Congratulations, Nita!" She stood up and shouldered her purse.

"Yes, I did!" Nita held up the document she'd been given as evidence. "I have my license, and it's all thanks to you!"

Jo laughed. "Now hold on a minute, Nita… I recall you did plenty to earn that license too. Come on… let's go pick up the kids and then get some ice cream, my treat. You drive."

"First I have to get my photo taken," Nita said, wrinkling her nose with distaste. "Hopefully it'll be better than my passport photo."

"Don't hold your breath." Jo sat down again and opened her book. "Go on… I'm fine here. Thankfully, it's not busy today, so you shouldn't have to wait too long."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Johnny had just finished his first physical therapy session with Rachel Newman, and he could already tell she was going to push him hard. Compared to her, Roy's therapist was a pussycat. At least Johnny would only have to meet with her a couple times a week for now — most of his therapy could be done at home.

She was sending him home with a list of exercises he was to do several times a day. He wasn't supposed to use his hand for anything else, and he'd been forbidden to drive for the time being — shifting gears had been awkward with a plaster cast on his arm, but he'd managed to make it work. It would really be impossible with the Kleinert splint. For today, Jo had offered to pick him up and drive him and Nita home.

He really appreciated the help, but he regretted that she'd had to commit to that kind of drive when she had company. Normally, he and Nita would just have stayed at the DeSoto house or with Nita's brother, but with Joanne's sister and her kids visiting for a few days, there wasn't room for the Gages, and just last week a friend of Billy's from the Fire Academy had moved into Nita's old room, which meant he couldn't accommodate them either. Johnny knew he really needed to convince Nita to get her permit so he could teach her to drive, but he had been so busy lately, it just hadn't been possible.

As much as he loved the ranch, at the moment he wished they lived closer in to the hospital, because having the only driver in their household sidelined really stunk. Tex knew how to drive but he wasn't licensed. When Johnny suggested he take the test, the older man only shrugged and shook his head. "I don't test so good," he said. Then he returned to his work and refused to discuss it any further.

Pushing his concerns aside for now, Johnny stepped outside into the warm autumn afternoon. The sunshine felt good. He took a seat on a bench to wait for his ride. At about 3:00, he watched Jo's familiar station wagon turn into the parking lot. As the car turned a corner and came closer to him, he did a double take and his jaw dropped. Was that really Nita driving?! Suddenly, all the hours she'd been spending with JoAnne made sense. Scrupulously honest, she had never actually lied to him — she'd simply told him she had plans. He had thought the ladies were up to something, but had never guessed this.

She pulled up to the curb where he was waiting and Jo hopped out of the passenger seat. "Turns out I can't drive you home, Johnny, but I think I've found an acceptable substitute."

As Jo moved around the car, Johnny peered in through the window, grinning ear-to-ear. In the backseat, the kids were laughing.

Megan pulled off her seatbelt and leaned over the seat. At 11, she really was too big for such antics, but he loved her natural exuberance. "Aunt Nita got her driver's license, Uncle Johnny!" she crowed.

Johnny reached in and ruffled the girl's curls, but his gaze was fastened on his wife. "I'm proud of you."

Nita gave him a shy smile, then got out of the car and let Jo take her place behind the wheel. Coming around to Johnny, she wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. "Your Jeep is parked in the lot, **a** **hattak.** I will drive us home."

He kissed the top of her head. "You learned the stick shift too?"

She nodded, beaming. "Yes. Jo insisted I learn that first. I like it."

Damn, but he loved the way her eyes glowed when she was happy. He kissed her again, ignoring the chorus of "Ewwwwws" from the three kids watching them from inside the car.

Johnny laughed, then slapped the top of Jo's car with his good hand. "Thanks, Jo. Say hi to Eileen and the kids for us. We'll see you tomorrow!"

"Right… you'll bring Tex won't you? We need all the help we can get!"

Johnny promised, and then JoAnne and the kids all waved and shouted their goodbyes. Johnny and Nita watched for a moment as they drove away before walking through the parking lot to the Jeep.

Johnny climbed in the passenger side and Nita started the vehicle. He was impressed with how smoothly and effortlessly she backed out of the spot and shifted out of reverse. "So whose idea was this?" Johnny asked. "Yours or Jo's?"

"Jo's." Nita turned out of the parking lot onto the street, heading for the on-ramp to the 110. "We were talking one afternoon, back before Roy was injured, and I told her that I regretted that **A** **ki** never allowed me to learn to drive. Next thing I know, she was telling me how Roy's mother insisted she learn to drive and she got me a manual. I had some money tucked away from before you and I met again, so I used that to pay the fees, and once I had my permit, Jo gave me lessons."

"I can't believe you were able to keep it a secret!" Johnny chuckled. "I'm glad you did, though… what a great surprise! I mean, I was sitting there worrying about how we were going to manage with me not able to drive, and there you come driving into the lot!"

"I'm sorry you were worried," Nita said softly. "I should have told you."

Johnny glanced at his wife in time to see her blink back a tear, and he knew the emotional roller-coaster she was on was only in part because of her pregnancy. "Hey, love… pull into that parking lot there for a minute."

She blinked again and nodded briskly. When they were parked, Johnny turned to face her. With his good hand, he caressed her cheek and gently drew her chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes. "Nita, I said I was glad you surprised me and I meant it. Listen, I know that your dad was really hard on you. I know that nothing you did ever pleased him, no matter how hard you tried, especially after your mom died. But Nita, I am not him, and I will never be like him. I am proud of you. Seeing you drive into the lot today made me very happy. And I shouldn't have been so worried because I should have known my wonderful wife would find a way to make sure everything worked out."

She nodded again and opened her mouth as if to answer, but no sound came out.

" **Ch** **i** **hullo li,** **satikchi."** He kissed away her tears and then pulled back and looked her over. She was beginning to smile again, and the warm glow had returned to her eyes. "All right… are you ready to drive us home now?"

"I'm ready," she said softly, but before starting up the vehicle again, she turned to smile at him. " **Yakoke.** Chi hullo li **akinli.** "

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie never intended to take another full week off work, but as luck would have it, she had come down with a persistent respiratory bug. She wasn't often ill, and figured perhaps the emotional upheaval of the last couple of weeks had weakened her immunities. She had planned to return to work the day after Taffy left, but when her alarm went off that morning, she knew right away she wasn't going anywhere. From the way the skin on her back tingled, she figured she was running a fever. She dragged herself into the bathroom to fetch a thermometer and take her temperature: 101 degrees, which meant back to bed, with a quick stop on the way to call Kel and let him know.

She slept off and on most of the day, prevented from getting any real rest thanks to the nasty cough she'd developed, and because she didn't even feel up to turning on her television, she'd missed the big news of the day. When Kel rang her doorbell late that afternoon, bringing with him another offering of chicken soup, she accepted it gratefully, but after he'd brought it in and set it on her kitchen counter, she tried to send him away. "I'm sorry, Kel… I really am sick. I just don't feel up to having company."

"I know… you look terrible… I mean…" His eyes widened and he looked horrified as he tried to backpedal. If she didn't feel so rotten, she might have found it funny. "You don't look terrible, but you look…"

"Terrible," she rasped out, and she pulled her bathrobe close around her. "No need to sugarcoat it, Kel. I'm losing my voice and I'm running a fever and I've got chills and all I want is to get back to bed. And you don't make house calls."

"For a friend, I do. Now stop talking. Back to bed is precisely where you're headed. Come on." He'd thrown an arm around her shoulder and guided her back to her bedroom and got her set up in bed. Then he took her temperature and looked in her throat and checked her vitals. Finally, he brought her a steaming bowl of soup, followed by a dose of codeine cough syrup, which she washed down with some hot peppermint tea.

"Looks like you've got the flu, Dix. I prescribe plenty of rest and lots of clear liquids." He picked up her bowl and her empty teacup. "I'll take care of these. You try to get some sleep."

That had been several days ago. She'd awakened the next morning to find a glass of water, a couple of aspirin, and a package of cough drops on her bedside table, along with a note. _Had to go on shift. Left you some stuff in the fridge. Will check in this evening. Call if you need anything — free house calls all week. Hope you feel better._

Nature's call had forced her out of bed after she swallowed the aspirin tablets, and when she was done, she wandered out into the living room. A folded blanket and a pillow from the linen closet, neatly stacked on the sofa, attested to the fact that Kel had camped out there overnight in case she needed anything. Curious, she checked the fridge and found it well-stocked with several varieties of soup and fruit yogurt. Further investigation revealed a freezer full of ice cream and frozen fruit bars.

He'd slept on the sofa each night after that while she was still running a fever. By the third night, she was feeling enough better to sit up in the evening and listen as he told her about everything that had transpired earlier in the week, with Mike at the preschool and then the press conference the following day.

That night, she convinced him to go home, but only after he extracted a promise that she would take another day to recuperate and would call him any time of the day or night if she spiked another fever. At his insistence, she stayed on the sofa while he saw himself out. He stopped at the door and turned to face her before leaving. And there he hesitated for just a moment. She could see that he didn't want to go, and her heart ached as she wrestled with the temptation to call him back, to ask him to stay, to let him wrap his arms around her the way he used to do.

"Good-bye, Kel. Thank you," she croaked.

"Bye, Dix. Remember… you promised to call —" The way he shuffled his feet and glanced downward, he looked for all the world like an awkward schoolboy in the throes of his first crush. He hadn't said another word about his feelings for her, hadn't even tried to touch her except as necessary for a doctor with a patient, but in this moment, she could see everything he'd left unspoken in his eyes.

She finished his sentence for him. "...If I spike another fever. I will. Now go home — I don't need your stiff neck on my conscience."

He chuckled. "Well, I've been told I was born stiff-necked, so you don't need to worry about that. Good night, Dix. I'll stop in tomorrow and see how you're doing."

"No, Kel." She knew she had to be firm, had to snuff out that smoldering torch before it fully rekindled — as much as it might hurt him, it would be a lot better than stringing him along. "I'm on the mend now. Go home."

He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut without saying anything. Instead, he touched two fingers to his forehead in a parting salute, then turned and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Dixie fought the urge to follow him into the hall and call him back. Instead, she took her box of Kleenex and her cough drops and went to her bedroom. She settled herself in bed and picked up her book from the bedside table — _Pride and Prejudice,_ by Jane Austen.

She opened the book and slipped out the bookmark, but after reading the same paragraph three times without retaining any of it, she slipped the bookmark back in place and set the book down with a sigh.

Conflicting emotions warred within her, keeping her awake until well after dawn. She missed Taffy. What had made her walk away so easily? She didn't fully understand it herself. She loved him, and saying goodbye had torn her heart in two. And yet… somehow she had realized as she lay in Taffy's arms that when she closed her eyes, it wasn't his face she saw. It was Kel's. She couldn't understand how she could love Taffy and yet yearn for Kel, but she knew that Taffy deserved someone who could give him her whole heart without any reserve. And didn't Kel deserve the same? Besides — two failed engagements were more than enough. Clearly, Dixie Ann McCall was not intended for wedded bliss.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel took the stairs two at a time, a jaunty spring in his step. Yeah, Dixie had kicked him out. But he'd seen something in her eyes before he left, something that renewed his hope and guaranteed he would be back tomorrow, rain or shine, to check on her.

He was pretty sure she would never admit it, but the way she had looked at him just then, before he left… it had been the way she used to look at him, back when they were deeply in love and he couldn't get his act together to make a commitment… back when he'd countered anything he interpreted as fishing for a proposal with a feeble attempt at a joke that never actually came out funny. Well, he'd learned a thing or two since then. He'd grown up a lot in the intervening years and he was not going to make the same mistake this time. Oh, he had no doubt it would be hard — after what happened with Taffy, she was bound to put up a fight. But Kelly Brackett's new mantra was perseverance, patience, persistence. And he would need them all in spades to win over the stubborn Dixie McCall.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy closed his eyes and tuned out the buzzing of the oscillating saw. The damned cast was soon to be history and he couldn't be more pleased. Well, except by the fact that he was going home day after tomorrow, which dwarfed everything.

He knew the family was planning a surprise party to celebrate the occasion. No one had told him directly, of course, but when Jo brought the kids and Eileen to visit and they heard the news, DJ had asked, "What color abloons do you like best, Daddy?" Just then, Roy had caught Chris out of the corner of his eye as he raised a finger to his lips, and Megan had hissed, and the little boy clammed up tight. Roy didn't think the normally chatty little guy said another word the whole visit.

Then, when Jo was ready to take everyone home, she'd bent to kiss him and whispered in his ear. "Don't worry… we'll keep it small."

As long as it really was small, Roy didn't mind the idea of marking his homecoming with a party. Jo's idea of small and his idea of small often conflicted, though. Their 'small' wedding included more than 200 guests, most of them on Jo's side. And the 'small' open house she insisted on hosting every year in early December generally saw them welcoming not only the old 51 A-shift and the men under his and Johnny's command (along with their families), but also their friends from Rampart and just about everyone they knew from their church… and the neighbors too, of course.

He had kissed Jo back and cast her a pleading look, but didn't say anything right then because he couldn't stand to break the kids' hearts. "Hey, Eileen," he said, turning his eyes to his sister-in-law. Her 15-year-old son had taken his antsy ten-year-old brother down to the cafeteria about half an hour ago and the pair were waiting for their mother there. "Could you take the kids on downstairs? I'll send Jo down in a minute."

"Sure, Roy." She kissed him on the cheek, then gathered the crew. "C'mon, kids. Let's go meet your cousins and get some ice cream, my treat."

Once he was sure the kids were out of earshot, he turned back to Jo. "Honey… I won't ask details and I promise I'll be surprised… but please go with my definition of small this time? Just the old crew from 51's and their families… and Chet can bring a girlfriend. But no one I don't know. OK?"

She pouted slightly. "But I already invited the whole congregation."

Her straight delivery almost had him fooled, but not quite — he saw her eyes twinkle. And besides, he knew it was impossible, as she only just found out the date for his discharge and couldn't have sent out any invitations without it. "Yeah, right," he said with a shake of his head.

She raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early and Dixie can come, yes?"

"Yeah, that's fine. And maybe Nick and his kids. But no one else."

She bent and brushed her lips against his. "I promise. No one else."

"Roy?" Dr. Early cleared his throat.

"Huh? Oh…" Roy looked up into Early's eyes, then at his left arm — the cast was gone. The limb looked awfully thin and pale compared to his right arm, and the skin was dry and itchy. He flexed it gingerly, testing his mobility. It would be a while yet before he could manage crutches, but just getting the cast off was a great start. "Thanks, Doc. Sorry I zoned out there for a bit."

"Not a problem." Early chuckled. "You've got a lot to think about, after all. Excited to be heading home soon, I'm sure." He wet a washcloth at the sink, then came back to gently wash the arm. Once he'd patted it dry, he massaged lotion into the skin. "Carol…" He looked over to the nurse who had come in with him. "Go ahead and get this cleaned up please."

"Yes, Doctor." She moved the cart and began straightening up.

"Yeah, I'm excited. A little nervous, maybe. But it'll be good." Roy watched as Early examined the arm and hand.

"I can understand that. All right… everything looks good. Now, you know the drill, but I have to go through it with you anyway." He handed Roy a sheet with instructions printed on it. "Take it easy for the first week—just gentle movement exercises, with lots of rest in between. You may have some pain — let that be a guide to make sure you don't go overboard. Soak it in warm water for twenty minutes, twice a day. That will help the skin, and it will feel good. Lotion will help too. I want to see you back here in one week for a follow-up, and if everything looks good, I'll clear you to start more serious exercises. With a little time, we'll get that arm back in fine shape."

Roy sighed. Everything about this ordeal was taking time. He just wanted to get through the tunnel already to the light everyone said was at the end.

"Look here, Roy," Early said quietly. Roy had realized a while ago that by being soft-spoken, Joe Early actually made people listen more carefully and really hear what he had to say. He made a mental note to try that tactic with his kids next time he had to deal with them quarreling. He met the doctor's gaze and listened. "I know this has been tough. But you're getting there. You've come a long way in the last six weeks, and I know you've still got a long way to go. But I am confident you will make it. You just can't be in too much of a rush or you'll only end up making it harder on yourself. Take the time you need to do it right."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The Stoker family sat in silence around the dinner table. For Beth and Mike, the last few days hiding out in this beautiful place had been less than peaceful. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the location. Big Bear was beautiful, and this cabin sat right on the lake. The local fire department — led by a friend of Chief Stanley's — had adopted them, bringing groceries to the door and making sure the press didn't come nosing around.

No, the problem wasn't the location at all. It was the company. Being trapped in a small cabin with two sullen sixteen-year-olds was not exactly at the top of Mike's list of relaxing ways to recuperate from a stressful experience.

Most teens would be thrilled to have an unexpected vacation from school. In fact, Mike thought Jacob was secretly pleased to have a little extra time to study for a geometry test. He was barely talking to his parents, but at least he wasn't being outright rude. Ian, though, hated missing school for any reason, and he wasn't all that good at taking things in stride. He'd only joined the family for dinner tonight under serious threat — Mike had promised to confiscate the book he'd been reading if he didn't take a seat at the table. It was a threat that almost always got results with Ian, a voracious reader. He had obeyed, but he made sure everyone knew it was under protest, sitting hunched over his plate and pushing the food around with his fork.

After calling his son's name several times and receiving only grunted responses, Mike rapped on the table to get his attention. "Come on, Son. Straighten up and eat your dinner."

Ian looked up, eyes flashing. "I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."

Mike glared at him, his patience waning. "Cut it out, Son. I'm sick and tired of your attitude the last few days. If you're angry, fine… talk with us instead of freezing us out or being rude. I'm talking to you too, Jake."

Ian pushed his chair back abruptly. He pulled his book out of his back pocket and tossed it to his dad. "I said leave me alone." And with that, he stormed into the small bedroom he and his brother shared.

Beth put a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Let him go. He needs time. You know this is about more than missing school."

Mike nodded, still stunned. He set Ian's book down and gave his attention to the meal again. His appetite had dwindled, though. Beth's must have too, because she started clearing the table and rinsing the dishes.

Only Jake continued eating. Pretty much nothing could diminish his appetite, though you wouldn't know it by looking at him. Mike wasn't sure where he put it all. When he had finished his second burger, he took a sip of soda, then wiped his mouth and looked up. "He's mad because you lied to us, Dad."

"Lied to you?! What do you mean?"

"Hey… you're the one who told us that deceit by omission is still a lie." Jake reached for another ear of corn before his mom could clear the platter. Mike could swear the kid had a bottomless pit for a stomach. "How do you think we felt when those reporters surrounded us as we got off the bus, asking about an older sister we never even knew about… along with too many questions about what it was like being the sons of an honest-to-goodness hero. Why can't you just have a normal job?"

Mike sighed. He couldn't really argue the point. His sons were right — about the deceit at least — and Mike had been feeling guilty ever since he knew the news was out. He and Beth should have sat the boys down a long time ago and told them about their big sister. "Beth!" he called into the small kitchen. "Could you let the dishes wait and come out here please?" Then he nodded to Jake. "Go get your brother. Tell him it's important." He tossed the book to the teen. "And give that back to him." Jake had the best chance of any of them at getting his twin to rejoin them. Ian almost never said no to his brother.

While Jake worked his magic, Mike tossed a few logs in the fireplace. He crumpled several pages of newsprint and stuffed them under the grate, then lit a match and held it to the paper. About the time he replaced the fireplace screen, Jake and Ian came out of their room. Ian plopped himself down on the sofa and sat stiff and scowling, his arms across his chest. Jacob sat next to him. Mike knew Jake was angry too, but he had always been better than his brother at keeping a lid on his emotions.

Beth took a seat in a worn leather armchair and Mike sat on the hearth, facing the boys. He enjoyed the warmth of the fire on his back. Once everyone was settled in, Mike began. "Ian… Jake… I'm sorry. You boys have every right to be angry. Your mother and I should have told you about Sarah a long time ago." He watched as Ian leaned forward, for the first time all week really listening to what he had to say. Jacob sat impassively, his expression harder to read, but Mike hoped he was listening too. "I want to explain why we never said anything. Not to make excuses, but just so that you will understand. And I'm not going to tell you everything. There is stuff the news stories didn't tell because no one but Mom and I know it, and you'll have to take my word for it that you don't need to know it. Maybe someday, but not right now." He sucked in a deep breath and glanced at Beth, who gave him a nod of encouragement.

"You boys know I was stationed in 'Nam for a while during the war. Sarah was two when I left, and had only just turned four when she went missing. When I got the call on base, I was devastated. I managed to get on the next flight out and I went home to your mom. You can imagine how hard it was on both of us. It almost destroyed our marriage — that was mostly my fault. I was so hurt and angry… I wanted someone to blame." His eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. "I was wrong… very wrong… and I have regretted it every day of my life since. Boys… I almost lost not just Sarah, but everything because of my…" His voice broke off, the words sticking in his throat. But then he felt warm fingers curl themselves around his hand and realized suddenly that Beth had moved to sit beside him. Her soft touch gave him the strength to go on. "...my stubborn stupidity. When I finally realized what was happening, though, I grabbed hold and hung on tight. Gradually, I learned to get on with life. Mom and I reconciled. We clung to each other. When we got word that Sarah had been found… that she would never be coming back to us… we had a private funeral and said our goodbyes. You were just babies then… a few months old.

"After that, we decided it was easier to move forward if we weren't looking back. We put away her pictures… we stopped talking about her. And we never told you. Still, it haunted us, and the two of you bore the brunt of it. You always wondered why we had a hard time letting you out of our sight when you were small. Even when you got older, we said no to sleepovers and field trips and camping with the Boy Scouts and so many other things you wanted to do. We just knew… we couldn't handle losing either one of you." Mike looked up at the boys, trying to gauge their reaction. When neither one had anything to say, he continued. His words came more slowly now. The unaccustomed speech had taken a lot out of him. "As for the hero thing… well, I wish the reporters hadn't put it that way. I was in the right place at the right time to do what had to be done… nothing more, nothing less. Any one of the guys would have done the same."

"No." Mike was surprised by the vehemence in Ian's tone. "No, Dad." The young man looked straight at him for the first time in days. "You are my hero. And I love you and Mom. I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

"Stop!" Mike's eyes flashed. "Don't say that about —"

Ian cut him off sharply, but at least the hostility was gone from his tone. "Please let me finish. I only thought about me… how mad it made me to learn about my sister that way. I didn't think about what it meant for you, having it all thrown back in your face. They shouldn't be allowed to do that!"

"But they are, dammit…" Beth squeezed Mike's hand hard. She didn't like him cussing in front of the kids. "They can publish whatever the hell they want and they don't care who it hurts as long as it sells papers." Normally, Mike would be the first to champion freedom of the press, but just now, this was personal and it stunk to high heaven and he wanted nothing to do with it. "We're just going to have to deal with it for a while. We can't hide out here forever — we have to get back to our lives. But at least now we can face it as a united front."

He pulled his hand out of his wife's grasp so he could put his arm around her shoulder. "Anything you want to say, Honey? You know me… I don't talk much, but once I start I don't always know when to quit."

His attempt at a joke brought a tired smile to her lips, and she pressed closer to his side. "No," she said softly. "Except that we love you boys. And… we can get through anything as long as we do it together."

"Exactly." Mike felt his heart surge with love for his wife and sons, and with this discussion, at last the cabin had become the haven of peace it was intended to be. He hated that they had to leave day after tomorrow, but he finally had confidence that they could handle whatever came just the way Beth said — together.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Thank you, dear readers, for joining me as I tell this story! I have enjoyed the journey immensely. Today I bring it to an end that I hope will satisfy, but also leave you eager for more.**

 **Thank you to all who have read, to those who have reviewed, and especially to my beta readers, Piscean6724 and katbybee. Piscean is always there with an encouraging word and a good eye for the little problems I miss. Kat has kept me going even when I felt like quitting, and she invariably knows what I need to do when I get stuck on a scene. She also provided the letter from Joe Early near the end of the chapter, after we each independently came up with some of the same ideas for his backstory. I love how her idea fit so perfectly with what I wanted to do for Roy.**

 **Of course, the story doesn't end here. There are some storylines I haven't yet tied up — these will find their way into my next Emergency fanfiction, which I hope to get started soon, so be on the lookout!**

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

On the day of his discharge, Roy awoke before dawn. He knew he wouldn't be leaving till sometime in the afternoon, but sleep evaded him. As excited as he was to be going home, anxiety gnawed at him. Everything would be different now.

"Take one day at a time," Dr. Richardson had counseled him, and in his head he knew that made sense. But Roy couldn't help thinking days and weeks and even years ahead. How was he going to manage to get in the house — there were at least three steps to take from the driveway up to the door, which wasn't exactly going to work well with his chair. And inside, there were steps all over the place. A couple down into the living room… another pair going up to the dining room… not to mention the curving staircase to the upper floor and the bedrooms. He'd have to make do with the sofa bed in the kids' playroom, which doubled as a guest room. Maybe they could get him something more comfortable in time, but even with his medical bills covered, they could hardly afford a new mattress just now.

Then there was the question of the new job. Dr. Brackett had been thrilled when he and Johnny formally accepted the positions that had been offered to them. They were on track to start in January. Roy wondered if Johnny would be willing to pick him up every day and drive him to work. Jo shouldn't have to do it — she had too many other things on her daily to-do list and he hated adding to it.

Nick's words from their last PT session were still in the forefront of his mind. _Don't you dare get used to people doing everything for you, Roy_. _Be aware of your limitations and don't worry about accepting help when you really need it. But think of it this way — the main reason to know your limits is so you can figure out how to push them back and work through them._

Theoretically, it sounded good. Roy had been known to push the limits in the past. He and Johnny did that together all the time, from their very beginning in the paramedic program. The ability to push past the limits was essential in their line of work.

In practice, though, he knew it was a lot easier said than done. For a while at least, those limits were going to keep him dependent on others for just about everything, and he hated that. Perhaps that was the worst thing of all that Howard Evans had stolen from him — independence. But he was determined to get as much of that back as he could. Whatever they asked of him in therapy, he intended to give 100% and then some. And one of these days, he would walk out of the rehab center on two legs… even if one of them was a prosthetic.

He watched through the window as dawn began to creep across the sky. Suddenly he felt drowsy. He had at least a few hours before breakfast. Might as well get a little more rest while he could. He let his eyes drift shut and soon was sound asleep again.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Stanley himself made the drive up to Big Bear to fetch the Stoker family and bring them home. The US had awakened that morning to the news of truck bombings in Beirut, targeting American Marines and French paratroopers stationed there as peacekeepers.* Hank wouldn't exactly call it a silver lining — he couldn't bring himself to think that way about such an atrocity — but the press would likely let Mike's story rest for now.

At 9:00 a.m. precisely, Hank knocked at the cabin's front door. Mike opened it a minute later. "You heard the news?" he asked grimly.

Hank nodded. "Yeah."

Mike sighed. "I want to know more… but I also don't. Right now it's just going to be a lot of conjecture, anyway."

Hank understood exactly what he meant. He had turned off the radio on the drive over because he couldn't stand listening to it anymore himself. Both men were veterans, and Mike had been a Marine. Those were his brothers who had been attacked. Hank knew the news had to have hit him hard. "I get it. Let me help carry your stuff out. We should hit the road."

While Beth and the twins double-checked the cabin to be sure they hadn't left anything behind, Mike and Hank quickly carried the luggage out and stowed it in the back of Hank's car.

Before they got moving, instead of switching on the radio, Hank punched a button to start playing a cassette tape — he grimaced when the music started. Apparently Evvy had taken out his beloved country mix tape when she was driving yesterday and replaced it with Michael Jackson. His daughter always groaned and rolled her eyes like it was the end of the world anytime he tried playing anything country. He jabbed at the off button, then ejected the tape and opened up the glovebox. There was the case for the Michael Jackson tape, and inside, as Hank figured he would, he found the mix tape his oldest son had made him for his last birthday. He treasured the gift, especially because he knew Doug had spent hours listening to music he didn't particularly like, just to choose songs for his dad. Hank slid the mix tape out of the case and popped it into the cassette deck, then stuck Evvy's tape in the pocket of his shirt. Maybe he'd hide it for a few days, see if she noticed.

Hank ignored the chorus of groans from the peanut gallery when the music started. His own kids had given him plenty of practice, after all. When he overheard Beth shushing her sons and admonishing them to be polite, he just chuckled. "No worries, Beth. I'm used to it."

He twisted the volume control knob, lowering the volume a bit so the music wouldn't overwhelm any attempts at conversation, then turned out of the driveway directly onto Highway 18. Emily hated this route, said its twists and turns always made her carsick, but it was the fastest way. At least the weather was good — Hank didn't mind the curves, but he sure would hate to travel them when they were slick.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike was glad to be heading home. He didn't mind a vacation, and at least the last day at the cabin had been peaceful and enjoyable, but he was a homebody at heart. He knew he wasn't the best company on the three-hour drive back from Big Bear, and he regretted that. But it was OK… no one needed him to talk right now. Ian always liked to lose himself in a good book on a drive of any length, and Jacob would be happy to put on his earphones and listen to his Walkman. Beth hadn't slept well and had already told him she intended to doze off on the drive home. And Hank was comfortable with Mike's silence. So, after a quick "Thanks for picking us up, Chief," Mike settled into his seat, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He had never been much of a country music fan, but he could tolerate it, and for now he was content just to let the music wash over him while he let his thoughts wander.

He and Hank went back a long way. When Mike first transferred into the LACoFD, Hank was the engineer in his station. Mike made engineer and moved to a new station before long, but in those few months together, the two men had formed a strong bond.

Hank's sons were a bit older than the twins, but his daughter Evelyn was about the same age, and they had all attended the same schools since Kindergarten. They were good friends, and Mike suspected that Jacob was sweet on Evvy. However, what the future held was something Mike didn't care to contemplate. Right now he was surrounded by his friends and his family and that was more than enough. They were safe. They were going home. The world might be a mess, but for Mike Stoker… right here, right now... life was good.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy's stomach fluttered as Dixie wheeled him down the corridor toward the door. He'd said his farewells to the nurses and doctors who had worked with him, and now at last it was time to leave the hospital. Jo was pulling the car around to meet him at the door.

He was working hard to keep his anxieties under wraps. He didn't want to trouble Dixie. She was awfully quiet as she pushed him to the exit, and he couldn't help worrying about her. They hadn't really talked since that day in Taffy's hospital room as she'd been out sick, but he knew about the broken engagement. His heart ached for both of his friends, and he wished he could make things right for them.

Just before they reached the door, she stopped and came around to face him. Stooping down so she was at his eye level, she rested one hand on his arm. "Roy, you're ready, and you're going to be fine."

His eyes flicked down to his lap and then back up to meet her warm gaze. "Thanks, Dix. Guess I wasn't hidin' it as well as I thought. But how are you doin'? We haven't really had a chance to talk since Taff —"

"I'm fine, Roy." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes and she looked tired, but her voice was steady. "At least, I'm getting there." She glanced toward the door. "I see JoAnne pulling up… let's go meet her and get you on your way."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie slapped the wheel of her little red Toyota Tercel with the flat of her hand. She was so mad she could spit. She'd declined a ride over to the DeSotos' with Jo and Roy because she didn't want to need a ride back to the hospital when she left the homecoming party. But now her car wouldn't start. When she turned the key in the ignition, it only clicked. She was pretty sure the battery was dead — it was several years old and bound to be on its last legs. She had jumper cables and knew how to use them, but the time it would take to find someone who could give her a jump, and then to get it running… well, she'd miss half the party. And odds were she'd need another jump by the time the party was over. She could call Triple A, but that really wouldn't save her any time. Maybe she should just call a taxi.

A sudden knock on her window made her jump just a little, and she turned to see Kel Brackett standing there, just waiting to be her knight in shining armor. That man exasperated her to no end. He'd come by her apartment yesterday after she'd told him she didn't need another visit, and she'd sent him packing. He'd just saluted and strolled off down the hall without a word. She rolled down the window. "I'm fine, Kel. Just a dead battery. Nothing I can't handle." She waited for his offer of a ride… she knew it was coming. The mighty Kel Brackett, swooping in to save the day.

But… he didn't. "All right," he said, and he took a step back. "I'll let Roy and Jo know you might be a bit late. See you there."

Dixie did a double take, watching in shock for a moment as he turned around and started to walk away. She whacked the steering wheel again and then called through the window. "Kel… wait."

He stopped. Turned. Looked at her. "Yes?"

Her face burned. She couldn't ask him for help after the way she had yelled at him yesterday. And yet… she wanted to get to the party before it broke up. She knew Jo intended to keep it short, in case Roy was feeling tired or overwhelmed. If she wanted to get there in time, she really didn't have a choice but to swallow her pride and ask for help. "Can… can I please get a ride with you?"

He appeared to think it over for a minute, then nodded. "I think I can squeeze you in. Come on. I'm parked just down the row."

Dixie rolled up her window and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, then got out of the car to follow Kel to his vehicle. She got in silently, fastened her seatbelt, and sat stiff as a board, her purse in her lap.

Kel slid into the driver's seat and started the car. For the first block of the drive, neither of them spoke a word. But as Kel coasted to a stop at a red light, they each said the same thing almost in unison: "I'm sorry."

"Wait…" Dixie furrowed her brow and tilted her head to stare at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you apologizing for? I behaved horribly yesterday, after everything you did to help me when I was sick. I never should have yelled at you."

"No, Dix… I deserved it." The light changed and Kel shifted gears and continued driving. "You told me not to come and I should have respected that. I made up my mind that you needed me and I didn't listen to you. For that, I'm sorry."

Dixie's mouth twisted in disbelief. She wasn't sure what to do with a Kelly Brackett who admitted he was wrong. "No, Kel," she admitted after a moment's silence. "I never should have treated you that way. You helped me through a really tough week… one of the toughest since —" Her voice faded out. She'd been about to say Adam, but if she said it, he'd want to know more. She would have to explain, and she didn't want to do that.

"Since Adam?"

She stiffened. "What?!" she spluttered. "How… how did you…" She turned to glare at him. His face was bright red. She would bet he hadn't intended to say what he did. But he had said it. "Come on, Kel," she snapped. "Spill it."

"It was that first time I brought you soup," he confessed, "not long after we started dating." He glanced at her for just a split second before locking his eyes on the road again. "You had called in sick — I was worried and came to your apartment and found you… well… not exactly sober. And you told me the whole story."

 _I was plastered,_ Dixie thought. Kel could be diplomatic till he was blue in the face, but it didn't change the truth. _I was missing Adam desperately and feeling terribly guilty because I was letting myself fall in love with Kel. And dammit, I'm in love with him still and I don't dare tell him because I'm terrified that if I do… something will happen to him too._ "Then you know why I can't risk it again," she said, her voice almost whisper soft.

"I never took you for the superstitious type, Dix." He stopped for another traffic light and looked over at her.

She felt her cheeks warm. Her logical side had been at war with her emotional side over this very issue for days. "I'm not, really," she admitted. "It's just… you have to admit I don't have a very good track record."

"Dix, you know that what happened to Adam… what happened to Taffy… that had nothing to do with you, right?"

She stared out the window. "I know."

"Listen, Dix. You know I can't promise that nothing is going to happen to me. But I meant what I said — I'm going to respect your wishes in this. If you're just not ready, I can wait till you are."

"And if I never am?"

He was silent for a moment before answering. "And if you never are, then I'll still be here. I'll still love you. And we'll still be friends." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ghost of a smile flit across his lips. When he spoke again, his voice deepened, his speech slowed a bit, dropping into a rhythmic lilt. "I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

She gave an approving nod. "Tennyson. I never took you for a romantic."

He chuckled. "I'm not. But a good friend pointed me to those words. And I guess they were what I needed at the time. I've been thinking a lot about them ever since."

"And?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "And I think Tennyson was right. Even if you never feel you can reciprocate my feelings for you… well… they've made my life richer. They make me… _you_ make me a better man."

He dropped his right hand to the seat between them. Dixie looked down and noticed for the first time a thin soft-bound book. _The Four Loves,_ by C.S. Lewis. He picked it up and passed it to her.

"Going theological on me, Kel? I didn't think Lewis was your style."

He shrugged. "I'm branching out. Needed a break from all those dry medical tomes. Check out the page I marked."

A torn strip of notebook paper poked out of the book, and Dixie turned to the page it marked. She found the passage easily — he had underlined the words. She began reading out loud, but halfway through her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper and then faded out entirely.

" _...to love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change… It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."_

She blinked back tears as she closed the book and lay it back on the seat. She didn't trust her voice right now, so she just stared out the window again.

"I don't know about the theological stuff, Dix… but this passage… well… it rings true to me. It fits. And… I don't want to be like that."

 _Neither do I._ She didn't say anything else on the rest of the drive, and he respected her need just to be quiet… to think on what he had said. She'd been working so hard at building up a wall around her heart, but now it seemed that wall was full of cracks and on the verge of tumbling down.

As he made the last turn onto the DeSotos' street, Dixie made a decision. Jo and Roy hadn't arrived yet, so she made no move to get out when Kel parked the car across the street and a few doors down from the house. He shifted into park, but didn't seem in a hurry either.

"I do still love you, Kel." There… she'd said it. Maybe she was a fool for risking it, but she felt as if a weight had dropped off her shoulders. "I'm… not ready for another romance… not ready to make any promises… Can we focus on being friends and take it slow? See where things go?"

"That works just fine for me, Dix." Kel reached across the seat to give her hand a squeeze.

As she looked back at him, she felt a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Kel." And in that moment, the wall completely crumbled.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

"You're nervous." Jo's comment caught Roy by surprise. She had pulled into the supermarket lot a couple blocks from home and parked the car, then turned to him and put a hand on his. "What's wrong, love?"

Roy sighed and turned to look out the window. He wasn't feeling up to eye contact just now. "I'm all right, Jo. I'm glad to be going home. It's just…"

"What?"

Finally he turned to face her. "Everything will be different."

"Tell me what you mean."

"You know what I mean, Jo!" he snapped. "I can't walk… can't drive… can't get upstairs to our bedroom. Our house isn't set up for a wheelchair. So basically I'm going to be stuck on the living room sofa all day. And how the hell do you plan to get me to and from the car, with all those steps on the walkway?" His gaze went back to his window, fixing on a child skipping across the parking lot next to her mother, on the way into the store. "I'm not ready, Jo," he whispered. "Maybe I should've agreed to inpatient rehab after all."

Jo squeezed his hand, then gently cupped his chin and turned his head so he was looking at her. When he saw her eyes shining with tears, he felt guilty for putting them there. "Jo, I —"

But she stopped him with a quick shake of her head. "Royal Christopher DeSoto, you listen to me," she said in that I'm-not-going-to-take-no-for-an-answer tone she sometimes used with the kids. "Yes, things will be different. That can't be helped, and it doesn't have to be a bad thing. And there are some things that will never change… first among them, the fact that I love you. And you… you haven't changed. Yes, your body is different, but you are still the same sweet, caring guy I fell in love with back in the fourth grade, and you have the grit and the determination and the will to get through anything that comes your way. You are ready, Roy. I am absolutely certain of that. And all those little things that _have_ changed — well, we'll just have to figure them out as we go." Her tone softened and she rubbed a thumb down his cheek. "And just maybe I have a few tricks up my sleeve that you don't know about yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

Jo chuckled. "Just trust me, Roy. Now… are you ready to get home?"

Her cheerfulness was infectious, and Roy had to admit that his curiosity was aroused. His anxiety had receded for now, and he finally felt the tension draining out of him. He grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for, Jo? Let's go!"

Jo chuckled. "OK, but you have to close your eyes."

"Close my — Jo, you're not serious!"

"I am completely serious." There it was again — her don't-give-me-any-nonsense tone. Damn, but Roy loved this woman. "Close them… or I'm not going to budge. And no peeking."

"All right, all right! I'm closin' 'em." He let his eyelids sink shut and leaned back against the headrest. Jo started the car again and backed out of the spot.

Even with eyes closed, Roy could track each turn that Jo made on the way home. He knew when they were out of the parking lot and back on the street… knew when she made the right turn into their neighborhood… and knew when she pulled into the driveway. The car stopped. "Can I look now?"

"No." He heard Jo's door open and the soft rustling of her dress as she got out of the car. "All right… now you can look." Roy opened his eyes and looked toward the house. Gathered there were his kids and all his old 51 A-shift brothers, along with their families. Mama Lopez had come, and Emily and Evvy Stanley. Even the Stokers had made it back from their retreat in Big Bear. Winnie Canfield — who had been enfolded into the DeSoto family at this point — stood behind DJ, her arms wrapped around him. He didn't see any of the Rampart crew at first, but finally spotted Dr. Brackett and Dixie walking up together from Brackett's car, parked just down the street. Dixie looked different somehow, almost seemed to be floating, and Brackett's hand was at the small of her back. Roy smiled at the sight. He would love to know the story behind this turn of events.

When Jo opened Roy's door, he got his first sight of one of those 'tricks' she had been talking about. The wheelchair she had brought from the trunk wasn't the hospital-issue one he thought they were bringing home. It was a brand new chair and looked a heck of a lot more comfortable than the one he had expected. A lot more expensive, too. She helped him swivel in his seat so he could move into his chair. Once he had managed the transfer, she situated a blanket over his lap, draping it down to cover his stump. "Should I even ask where this came from?" he mumbled.

"Probably not. But don't worry… it's a loaner." Jo pushed the chair around the car, and the crowd parted as they approached. And here was the next trick. Running alongside the walkway up to the front porch was a newly-built wheelchair ramp. Yellow and blue helium-filled balloons tied along the rails bobbed in the breeze. "What in the —"

"Chet and Marco put that in. There's one in the backyard, too. They're temporary — once you're up and walking, you won't need them any more."

Before they got far, DJ squirmed out of Gramma Winnie's grasp and ran forward to climb up in his daddy's lap and snuggle against him. "Welcome home, Daddy!" Megan and Chris took up their positions on either side of his chair.

Jo's tricks hadn't run out with the chair and the ramp. The front door opened before they got to it, and out stepped a young woman, impeccably dressed in an ankle-length black dress, her long dark hair falling in waves around her face. She carried a violin case in one hand. "Marta?" Roy stared at his little sister in disbelief. "I thought you were on tour!"

"I am." She bent to hug his neck. "I've got a concert at the Greek Theater tonight and Tuesday. But I had a little time to come and welcome you home. Jo promised to keep it a secret, just in case it didn't work out." She sighed, then nodded toward a blue Ford Mustang that had just pulled up to the curb. "My ride is here. I have to get to rehearsal, but I've got tomorrow off and I hope to spend more time with you then. I love you, big brother." She kissed his cheek.

"Bye, Sis." Roy squeezed her hand. "I love you too." He watched as she hurried down the walkway and stepped into the waiting car.

As the car sped away, Megan gently shook his arm. "C'mon, Daddy! You gotta see this!"

Chris was quieter than his sister. At 13, he considered himself all grown up, and he preferred to avoid emotional displays, especially in front of people. But he did put an arm around his dad's neck in a quick hug. "Glad you're home, Dad."

"Thanks, Son." The pair didn't need a lot of words to communicate. Roy knew that far more had passed between them than a simple greeting. From what Jo had told him, their son had done his best to assume the mantle of man of the house while Roy was at Rampart. Now he had passed that mantle back to his father. Later, perhaps, they would talk about it. Roy figured he would follow Chris' lead.

Inside, as Megan conducted her dad on a tour of the house, Roy's eyes widened. The amount of work that his family had put into having the place ready for his return was astounding. The couple of steps down into the family room and back up into the dining room now had ramps allowing him access. In the kitchen, a couple of portable cupboards had been set up near the window to the backyard, providing counter space and cabinets within his reach. "None of this is permanent," Johnny said, "because you're not going to need it for long."

Megan tugged on the chair. "Come on, Daddy! There's more!"

Roy wasn't sure how things could get better. Surely they hadn't figured out a way to get him upstairs. But JoAnne wheeled him through the dining room to the French doors that led into the playroom. When Megan flung open the doors, allowing Roy to see inside, his jaw dropped.

"Our bedroom? You moved it down here?" He looked up at Jo, who stood there smiling. "Who did all this?" When they had first bought this house a few years before, the added-on bonus room had been one of the big selling points. Roy and Jo had painted it a cheerful bright yellow, and the kids had used it as a playroom and game room. Occasionally, they had talked about moving their master bedroom downstairs for a little added privacy, but had never acted on the idea.

"I had a lot of helpers," Jo admitted. "And most of them are here tonight. We can have our friends from church over another time." She pointed toward the old storage room door on the side wall. "Remember how the previous owners had roughed in a bathroom?"

Roy gaped. "You didn't… we can't afford that, honey."

"We can and I did," Jo said. "You know Jim Darden from church? Well… he's a contractor. He asked me what you needed and I told him. He volunteered the labor and sold us the fixtures at cost. The bathroom is finished, and it's beautiful."

Roy rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. "It's too much," he whispered as he gazed around the room. His and Jo's wedding picture hung in a place of honor on one wall, with photos of their parents and the kids ranged around it. Above the bed was a framed painting of the Champs Élysée that Jo had bought in Paris earlier that year. The heavy drapes that used to cover the windows looking out on the backyard were gone, and in their place hung frilly curtains with a floral print. They were closed now, so he couldn't see outside.

"Mom… we still have to show him —" Megan was bouncing with excitement, her curls tumbling around her face, but Jo shook her head, and Roy saw her mouth the word "Later." He was curious, but he wasn't sure he could handle anything more at the moment without bawling like a baby in front of their guests. Jo was right — anything more could wait until later. He couldn't imagine how anything could top this anyway.

DJ squirmed around in his lap to look up at him. "We got cake an' ice cream, Daddy!"

"We do?" Roy dropped a kiss on the little boy's head, grateful for the change in focus. "That sounds like a great idea. Lead the way, Buddy."

The whole gathering moved to the kitchen, where Jo produced a large sheet cake and Nita got the ice cream from the freezer. In short order, the two ladies had dished up servings for everyone.

The group enjoyed their cake as they talked a while. About an hour in, though, Hank Stanley yawned. "Guess it's about time for us to head home," he told Emily. Apparently, it was some sort of prearranged signal, because suddenly everyone was disposing of their paper plates and plastic utensils and bidding the DeSotos a good night. The ladies hugged Roy's neck and the men clapped him on the back, and then they departed. It wasn't even dark yet, but Roy was tired and ready to be alone with his family, and he was grateful to Chief Stanley for recognizing that.

Johnny and Nita stayed a while longer, and they all sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and just enjoying being together. Roy heard about Nita's driving lessons and how she had surprised Johnny, and they discussed some tentative plans for the holidays.

"I'll bring Callie back tomorrow, Roy," Johnny promised. "She's doing great, but she hasn't quite mastered her party manners."

Roy nodded. He was a little disappointed, but he figured it was for the best — he'd rather get to know the pup without a crowd around. He just hoped that she wouldn't find it difficult to come back to this house after having the run of the Gage ranch.

His eyes traveled around the room, coming to rest on Megan as she sat watching him drink his coffee. His heart went out to her. She was sitting on her hands, trying so hard to be patient and sit still, but all that energy and excitement had her squirming in her seat. Roy knew she hated it when they brought out the coffee mugs because it meant they would be taking their time with grown-up talk. He understood — he had felt the same way when he was her age. He set down his mug and leaned over to whisper to her. "I think it's about time you showed me that last surprise now."

She bounced up as if she were made of springs and threw her arms around him. "It'll be your favorite thing," she declared. "I just know it."

They left their dishes to be cleaned up later and Jo wheeled Roy back to the new bedroom. Johnny, Nita, and the kids followed. Well… except Meggie. Meggie led. Roy shook his head and chuckled at the girl's excitement and energy.

In the bedroom, Chris positioned himself by the curtain rod, but he didn't open the curtains yet. First, Jo handed Roy a sealed envelope. "Read this." Roy recognized his own name on the back, spelled out in Joe Early's looping careless scrawl. Curious, he slipped a finger under the flap and broke the seal, then pulled out the letter inside and began to read.

 _Dear Roy,_

 _I know you have had quite a few surprises today, and here is another one. Please accept it in the spirit in which it was intended. You probably know I have plenty of money and not a lot to spend it on. I like to spend it on my friends when I can, and I know this gift will be good for you and JoAnne both._

 _I used to tease my wife, calling her "Other Name" because of the famous line "A Rose by any other name…", but my Rose was the sweetest and best there ever was. I lost her a long time ago. I miss her every day, Roy. The cancer that took her away from me was the reason I switched from psychiatry to neurology. It nearly drove me mad to watch the girl I married… the woman I adored… eventually lose herself to the relentless spread of her cancer. We had wanted children, which was how we discovered her problem. We had even set aside a cradle fund. That fund later started the breast milk donation program in the NICU at Rampart._

Roy lowered the letter and sat for a moment, silently absorbing what he had just read. He'd known for a long time that Joe Early was well-off. Brackett had once called him "king of the money bunch." But Joe wasn't the sort to spend much on himself. He didn't drive a flashy car or live in a fancy home. He took greater pleasuring in lavishing his good fortune on others. He'd always been generous with the kids at Christmas, and Roy had helped him a time or two when he wanted to give anonymously. But Roy had never imagined that the affable doctor was a widower. Jo, matchmaker at heart, had attempted a few times to pair him off with one of the older single ladies from church, but he had always graciously declined. Now Roy understood why.

"Keep reading, Daddy!" Meggie's voice called him back to the letter he still held in his hands. He gave a brisk nod and then continued.

 _Rose was a generous woman. She took great joy in sharing what she had, and she taught me to do the same. And now I want to share with you. I hope that you will enjoy this hot tub. I know you've been dealing with phantom pain, and other amputees I've known say that a hot tub works wonders. This one is top-of-the-line. Rose would be pleased for you to have it._

 _I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable sharing these details with you, and I would prefer you keep them to yourself. JoAnne knows now, as do Kel and Dixie, but no one else. It's just that I wanted you to know you're not the first one I've shared the wealth with. I would be honored if you will accept it and let it help you continue helping others in the community._

 _Your friend,  
Joe Early_

 _P.S. I am NOT taking it back._

Roy looked up at Jo. "A hot tub? Really?"

She nodded, eyes dancing. "Really!"

"Now, Mom?" Chris pleaded. Now that the company was gone, he had dropped his reserve and was clearly as excited as his younger sister.

"Now, Chris." Jo replied. The boy swept the curtain rod to the side, pulling the curtain along with it. Where there had been a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, there was now a brand-new sliding glass door opening onto a private patio. Chris opened the door and Jo wheeled Roy through it.

At one end of the patio was a wrought-iron table and a couple of chairs. Roy smiled faintly at the sight of a champagne bottle on ice and two glasses arranged on the table.

"For later," Jo whispered in his ear.

Roy nodded as he let his gaze wander around the patio. It was fully enclosed with a solid wooden fence and with privacy netting over the top. The hot tub was sunken into the deck, with a shelving unit next to it holding about ten rolled up towels. The shelves sat atop a small refrigerator. Suddenly, music began to play — Glenn Miller's _In the Mood_ — and a string of lights twinkled on. He heard Meggie giggle and looked over to see her standing at a control switch. A second look around, and he managed to find the speakers positioned around the patio.

"I… I don't know what to say," Roy stammered, once he could make his voice work.

"I know exactly what you should say," Johnny offered. "Say that Nita and I can take the kids up to the ranch to spend the night. Jo told me they have tomorrow off — teacher inservice or something. We'll bring them back with Callie tomorrow afternoon before I have to be at HQ."

A glance at Jo told Roy that this wasn't just a spontaneous idea — it had been planned in advance. Most likely, the kids had their bags packed already. He loved being back with the kids, but the idea of a whole evening for just him and Jo to get reacquainted… well, that was awfully tempting. The kids didn't seem to mind. Megan had moved from Roy's side to Nita's, and DJ had wrapped his arms around Johnny's leg. Chris was grinning ear to ear — he loved going up to the ranch to help with the horses.

"Thanks, Junior. Thanks, Nita. That sounds great."

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

An hour later, home alone, Roy and Jo were soaking in their new hot tub. Glenn Miller played over the speakers. They each had a glass of champagne sitting within easy reach on the tub ledge. Joe was right — the soak did wonders for his phantom pains. It felt good on his arm, too. As the water frothed and bubbled around them, he pulled JoAnne close and brushed his lips against hers.

And as he did, memories rushed through him of the last several weeks. Things had been difficult and there had been times he was sure he would never make it back. He'd been set on a hard road indeed, but now he was right where he belonged, in the arms of the woman he loved. He was finally home.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

 ***On 23 October 1983, during the Lebanese Civil War, suicide bombers detonated two truck bombs in Beirut, Lebanon, killing 241 Americans, 58 French, and 6 Lebanese civilians, and injuring numerous others. The Americans — mostly Marines — and French were there as part of a peacekeeping operation. This attack resulted in the deadliest day for the US Marine Corps since Iwo Jima (WW2) and the deadliest day for the US Armed Forces since the Tet Offensive (Vietnam).**


End file.
